


Undercurrents

by DeadFreckledBoys



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Found Family, M/M, Mermaids, Minor Violence, Nobility, Oikage Big Bang 2018, Revenge, Sirens, Slow Burn, Swearing, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadFreckledBoys/pseuds/DeadFreckledBoys
Summary: “How unfortunate. It looks like you’ll be stuck on board. Unless of course, you’d like me to throw you over? Good luck swimming in those ropes.” His grin is as dark as the deep sea.“What are you going to do? Keep us hostage?” asks Tobio.“Oh no. Hostage would imply you stay free of charge. You’re going to have to work if you want to stay alive on my ship.”Kageyama was supposed to join the Navy. Oikawa was supposed to sink a ship. Becoming a pirate wasn’t on either of their agendas. A tale of hunting for treasure, seeking revenge, and falling in love along the way.





	1. Accidental Pirates

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for the Oikage Big Bang 2018! Many thanks to [ Rokutagrl ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rokutagrl/pseuds/Rokutagrl) and [Deadseasalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadseasalt/pseuds/deadseasalt) for betaing my fic! Also be sure to check out alexanderisnotmyname on tumblr for their wonderful illustration of one of the later scenes! Many thanks to the admin of the [Oikage Big Bang](https://oikagebigbang.tumblr.com/) for being so patient when I needed an extension! 
> 
> This fic has turned into an absolute beast and my rough draft is well over 33k at the moment. This chapter alone was originally over 12k until Kayla helped me split it up into a second chapter during her last-minute betaing this morning. I hope you enjoy slow burn because it is going to take a long while until Oikawa and Tobio's paths collide (But it's worth the wait, I promise <3)

Seagulls cry as they swarm overhead, diving down to steal the remains of a sailor’s lunch scattered along the boardwalk. The air is warm and muggy, the borrowed clothes upon his back sticking uncomfortably to Tobio’s skin. Nevertheless, he is grateful for the shabby material, the fabric so much lighter in comparison to the stiff layers of his standard wardrobe. He tugs at the sleeves, a few inches too short, as he hesitates at the edge of the wharf.

“You’re not _scared_ are you?” Shōyō sing-songs beside him.

Tobio’s gaze is focused on an exchange a few feet away. A young man, his uniform that of a new recruit, locked in a tender embrace with a tearful woman. He dabs a handkerchief at her eyes, leaving a kiss at the top of her brow before departing. Tobio wonders briefly what it would be like to share goodbyes with someone he cares for but the only one left at home is his father and some things are best left unspoken.

“Course not,” He mutters, turning towards Shōyō only to catch a brief glance of his mocking smile, all teeth and rounded cheeks, before the ginger shoves against his chest and bolts down the wooden planks.

“What are you—”

“Catch me if you can,” Shōyō shouts from his new location atop a wooden barrel before leaping downwards and vanishing amongst the crowd. “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

“Come back here, you dumb-ass!” Tobio strains his voice to be heard over the early morning commotion of seamen and workers who are hauling various cargo on and off the array of boats docked along the wharf.

He catches a glimpse of red hair darting between a group of fisherman and resigns himself to the chase. _So much for keeping a low profile._ He sighs and stretches his legs, crouching down into a running position. It takes only a few quick strides before Tobio catches up to him, his long and lean form far quicker than Shōyō’s small stature.

Fiery hair is but a fingertip away and he can taste the sweetness of victory on the back of his tongue. His vision narrows onto his target and he is caught off guard by a sudden impact as he finds himself tumbling to the ground, nearly impaling himself upon the sharp point of a blue marlin held in the arms of a rather unimpressed fisherman.

Shōyō’s laugh echos as he continues on ahead.

Tobio’s apology is gruff, hastily tossing a few loose coins the fisherman’s way as he picks up the chase. His calves burn with exertion by the time he makes it to the end of the dock and spots the ginger climbing the gangplank of a nearby ship. Shōyō pauses upon seeing him, stilling just long enough to strike a victory pose.

“You lose! That makes it three to one this week!” He grins down at him as Tobio bends over, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath, the pungent smell of fresh caught fish and seawater doing little to help.

“That’s because you _cheated_ ,” Tobio snarls, shoving Shōyō aside as he makes his way aboard the ship. He enjoys the sight of the other losing his balance, almost toppling into the water. _Serves him right._

“I prefer to call it a tactical advantage.”

“You shoved me into a barrel of fish,” Tobio narrows his eyes. “I’d hardly call that a fair fight.”

Shōyō shrugs, having righted himself and stepping onto the large wooden deck.

“But now we made it, right?” Shōyō winks and nudges the other with his arm. “The ship would of set sail if you had spent all morning dawdling on the pier.”

“I wasn’t…” He trails off, looking out at the water. The waves are gently lapping against the pier and he feels his breathing settle into their rhythm.

“Having regrets?”

“No.”

“You sure?” Shōyō takes a step in front of him, forcing him to look his way. The childish grin has dropped, replaced with a solemn look that is far too serious for his boyish features. “We can still turn back.”

“I’m positive,” Tobio returns the look, eyes fierce.

“Well good! I don’t feel like facing your father’s wrath today.” Shōyō claps him on the back. “How long do you think he’ll put you under house arrest this time? Three months? A year?”

“More like a millennium,” Tobio rolls his eyes. “Won’t feel any different than usual.”

“Well that’s about to change! I’m sure he’ll turn a new leaf once he realizes how great you are at this! The papers will read, ‘Tobio the Pirate Slayer returns home with mountains of gold and discovers new lands!’ Maybe they’ll even host a parade.”

“Uh-huh…Sure.”

“Anyways!” Shōyō looks around at the crew darting on and off the dock transporting the last pieces of cargo before the voyage. “Let’s find the boss around here!”

They weave in and out between large men carrying heavy barrels, filled to the brim with what smells like alcohol, keeping their eyes peeled for the telltale uniform of the ship’s captain. They have nearly circled the wide expanse of the outer deck yet there has been no sign of any blue jackets amongst the crew, let alone golden embroidery. Tobio eyes one of the men, his clothes a hodgepodge of fabrics and torn around the edges, his exposed biceps decorated in intricate swirls of ink. The man notices and grins at him, revealing a row of blackened teeth and Tobio shudders.

“There seems to be a rather severe lack of dress code,” he says.

“Maybe they’re all new recruits?” Shōyō whispers conspiratorially. “But just imagine the governor’s face if he saw these infractions. Remember that time last month when—”

“Good thing the governor ain’t here, ain’t it?” A voice from behind startles them and they turn around to see a tall man, his shaved head adorned in a bandana and large gold hoops dangling from his ears.

“H-Hello!” Shōyō says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Tobio can feel the sweat dripping off of his palms as Shōyō clutches to his forearm with the strength of a frightened koala. “You all look great. I really love the…accessories.”

“Thanks, stole them off a corpse,” the stranger bounces one of the hoops in his ears.

 _“Really?”_ Shōyō squeaks.

“You two don’t look familiar. What business you got being on our ship?”

“We’re here to enlist.” Tobio keeps his voice steady as he reaches for the papers in his pocket. “I’ve got the documents to prove it.”

“You’ve got papers?” The man raises an eyebrow and takes the offered parchment.

“Yes! Papers! _Legitimate documents._ Definitely not forged,” Shōyō adds with a wince as Tobio elbows him in the ribs.

“Hey Noya! Come over here.” The man shouts at a crew member across the way with dark, disheveled hair streaked through with blonde. “They’ve got papers.”

“Papers?” says the alleged Noya as he approaches. His stature is so small that Shōyō almost looks impressive standing beside him, though the amount of knives gleaming along his belt keeps Tobio’s mouth firmly shut. “Don’t they know you can’t read for shit?”

“I read plenty I’ll have you know!”

“Looking at drawings of naked ladies don’t count.”

Shōyō and Tobio share a puzzled look as they watch the two continue to bicker.

“Excuse me,” Tobio says, “may we please speak with the captain?”

“Oh yeah, Noya, these two said they want to join the crew! Apparently that’s what the papers are for! It all looks like some sort of foreign language to me though.”

“What? Give me those!” Noya grabs the parchment, drawing it near and squinting at the ink. “The hell is this? ’Employment contract for Abba Josie’,” he pauses a moment, “Who’s Abba Josie? That you?”

“Of course not!” Tobio stomps his foot and retrieves the stolen document. “How dumb are you? How do you not know the name of your own vessel? The Aobajohsai, the Imperial Navy’s most prestigious crew.”

They both give him blank stares and for a moment he believes they’ve gone catatonic. Then the uproarious laughter begins.

“H-He thinks we’re part of the Navy” the taller one snickers, clutching at his sides with laughter.

“Poor idiot,” the other points before buckling over, tears streaming down the corner of his eyes.

“Enough nonsense! I’ll find the captain myself.” Tobio’s blood boils as he stomps his way towards the other side of the ship, Shōyō following suit.

“What was with those assholes?” Shōyō whispers, fear still evident with the continued death grip on Tobio’s arm, “Is this some sort of practical joke?”

“I don’t know, but we definitely need to speak to the man running this ship.”

“Everything accounted for?” Rumbles a deep baritone in the direction of the helm.

“Aye, Captain!” Returns another unfamiliar voice.

“Captain? Yes!” Tobio speeds up, making his way towards the source of the voices.

“Tobio…” Shōyō says meekly.

He glances back to see Shōyō has stopped dead in his tracks. “Hurry up!”

_“Tobio.”_

He keeps going forward until he feels a hand tugging on his shoulder. “Tobio—look!”

Shōyō grabs his face, clammy hands tilting his head back, directing his vision skyward. He squints at the glare of the early morning sun, his vision blurring. There’s nothing to see besides the clear blue sky framed between the sails and support beams.

“There’s nothing th—” He notices something off about the flag set atop the large white sails. He cups his hands around his eyes, taking a closer look. The royal blue looks almost black and the white eagle emblem looks distorted. He blinks and his blood runs cold when he sees the skull beyond what is not a poorly rendered eagle, but in fact the silhouette of a raven.

The ground shakes beneath him and his thoughts are momentarily deafened by the loud ringing of a bell.

“I think we may have fucked up,” Shōyō whispers, “a little.”

“ _A little,_ ” Tobio grabs onto his shirt collar. “You put us on a damn pirate ship and you think that’s just a ‘little’ mistake!”

“Y-you were chasing me! I got distracted!”

“I was only chasing you because you ran away!”

“Well if you hadn’t stalled us maybe I wouldn’t have been in such a hurry!” Shōyō shouts.

“Or you could pay attention to your surroundings for once!”

“You weren’t paying attention either!”

The ship lurches forward and the two collide into each other.

“This is all your fault!” They shout in unison.

“Set sail!” Booms the voice of the supposed captain from earlier.

“No, no, no,” Shōyō chants as he scrambles to get to the railing, _“no,_ **_no_ ** _!”_

 _This can’t be happening._ Tobio watches in horror as the ship begins to leave the dock.

“Look!” Shōyō makes a noise akin to the squawk of a bird, “I found the real Aobajohsai!”

Tobio sees it as well, the waving blue and white flag and the crew members like a sea of blue dots along the railings. He also sees the ever growing distance between the boat and the dock and the gallons of water beneath them.

“If we jump right now, we can still make it!” Shōyō clutches to his side, shaking him vigorously. He begins climbing upon the railing, reaching one hand out towards him. “Come on!”

Tobio can’t feel his limbs. His heart throbs, beating against his ribcage like the crashing waves that pound along the hull of the ship. Shōyō cries out to him but the words are muffled, his ears ringing as his vision swims.

 

* * *

 

Tobio regains sensation in his limbs in time to feel the burn of rope bound tightly across his wrists and torso. He hears the crack of his ribs as he’s roughly thrown onto the floor, splayed ineloquently across the tile of the captain’s quarters.

“We caught stowaways, Sir,” says a man with messy black hair. His grin is like that of a cat towards a mouse. Standing beside him is an intimidatingly muscular man with white hair and black roots, his thick arms adorned in tattoos. He uses a single hand to hoist an equally bound Shōyō by the scruff of his collar before ungracefully throwing him onto the ground.

“Good job Kuroo, Bokuto. You are now excused,” replies a broad chested man with dark cropped hair. His attire is far less shabby than the previous crew members, his black jacket frayed around the edges but otherwise perfectly tailored, golden buttons shining across the lapel of his jacket and an orange jabot sitting beneath his collar.

He leans atop the large wooden desk at the back of the room to take a better look at the crumpled pair on the floor. He laces his fingers besides a black bicorn hat decorated with raven feathers.

“State your names and what business you have upon my ship.”

“Tobio—,” he begins before Shōyō slams his skull against Tobio’s sternum.

“Are you daft? You can’t give your real name to pirates!” Shōyō violently whispers.

“…K-Kageyama,” he stutters, remembering his alias for enlistment. They had found the name in a book the night before, some explorer who had discovered one of the far off islands along the shores of Shiratorizawa.

“This is, um, Hinata,” he uses his chin to point towards Shōyō. “We’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yes, I can see that,” replies the man who he is now very certain is the captain.

“Please excuse my companion, he’s bad at speaking—and everything else for that matter.” Tobio kicks at Shōyō. “Ouch! As he was saying, I believe we have made a grievous error.”

“How so?” asks the captain.

“You see,” Shōyō continues, “we may have boarded the wrong ship. We were trying to enlist into the Imperial Navy this morning and my poor sense of direction seems to have landed us here instead.”

“I see…” The man puts his head atop his chin and levels him with a stare.

“So if you could just lend us a row boat, we will be on our way!” Shōyō aims a pained smile at the man.

“On your way to the Navy, yes?”

“Well, duh,” Tobio tsks under his breath.

“To the Navy, who is hellbent on clearing all ports of ‘unsavory’ ships and their crew?”

“Um…” Shōyō squirms.

“How unfortunate. It looks like you’ll be stuck on board. Unless of course, you’d like me to throw you over? Good luck swimming in those ropes.” His grin is as dark as the deep sea.

“What are you going to do? Keep us hostage?” asks Tobio.

“Oh no. Hostage would imply you stay free of charge. You’re going to have to work if you want to stay _alive_ on my ship.”

“You mean to say we’re being forced to work as pirates?” Tobio tries to resist trembling as he maintains eye contact.

“I prefer to call myself a privateer, but it all comes down to the same thing nowadays, doesn’t it?”

Shōyō swallows nervously beside him.

“Welcome aboard the Karasuno, lads.”

 

* * *

 

Being a pirate is a lot less glamorous than his childhood books would leave him to believe. So far Tobio has been stuck below deck hunched over and elbow deep into a soup pot, scrubbing away at inches of caked-on grime. There’s a new layer of dirt stuck under his nails that he is not entirely sure will ever come off, and his fingertips are raw and tender, a piece or two of skin taken away with the pile of potatoes he peeled earlier this morning. When he’s finally finished with that, he’s given the ever exciting task of emptying the chamber pots out the port windows.

He has nearly forgotten the feeling of the sun on his skin or the smell of fresh air, so it comes as a sweet relief when Shōyō limps down the stairs, tossing a mop into his arms before collapsing against one of the barrels of rifles waiting to be shined.

“Your turn,” he whines. His skin is pink, a new patch of freckles stretching across the bridge of his nose, and a sheen of sweat glistening above his brow.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Tobio mutters as he drops a clean cloth atop the other’s head on his way above deck. The sun is starting to lower in the sky, early evening approaching. He takes in a deep breath, looking out at the calm water surrounding them, and savors it for a moment.

That moment turns sour when a ridiculously tall man with silver-blonde hair approaches him. Tobio has learned his name is Lev and not much else. He speaks little, instead relying on hand gestures and facial expressions to communicate. He was apparently the newest recruit before them, having been picked up in a foreign port a few months prior with little knowledge of their language. Unfortunately, being the previous new recruit means he bears the burden of passing down the cabin boy duties.

“Where is little man?” He asks, bending down to gesture at Shōyō’s height.

“Napping probably,” Tobio says. “Or puking, could be either.” He pities his friend, his poor constitution made worse by the constant turbulence. Neither of them got much sleep last night, the sound of Shōyō retching keeping them both wide awake. “We switched shifts.”

“Oh, then you can help!” Lev grabs him by the elbow and proceeds to direct him towards the support beams. He makes a show of tying a complicated series of knots and Tobio stares blankly as he’s handed his own string of rope.

“Now you.”

“What?”

It takes a good many hours and the start of a pounding headache before Tobio has managed to wrangle the rope into doing his bidding. Perhaps he’ll be skilled enough to tie a proper noose by the end of it all. On the plus side, he had learned some new vocabulary from the expletives Lev let loose as he tried to untangle the mess from Tobio’s earlier attempts.

 

* * *

 

Tobio is grateful for nightfall as he climbs into his hammock and pulls the meager excuse for a blanket around his shoulders.

“Something’s been bugging me,” Shōyō mutters as he settles in for the night in his adjacent hammock.

“The smell?” says Tobio.

“Not that. The Karasuno. I’ve heard the name before and I can’t for the life of me remember where.”

“You know, the Karasuno had a famous crew member back in its day,” says the tall man with the bandana, who they have learned is called Tanaka. “They called him the Little Giant.”

Shōyō twists out of his hammock and lands on the floor with a loud smack. “ _The_ Little Giant?” His eyes nearly pop out of head. “The greatest treasure hunter on this side of the continent?”

“That’s the one. Said to have found a million gold pieces in buried treasure.”

“Kageyama, are you hearing this? It’s the Little Giant! We’re on the same ship as the Little Giant!”

Tobio needs no reminders of his identity. He remembers a young Shōyō bolting into his bedchambers with a copy of “The Seven Greatest Men of the Seven Seas” propped open to his favorite passage. He’d made Tobio’s mother read that chapter a million times, Tobio taking on the narration after her passing. He could still recite it by heart if he tried.

“Is he here? Like right now? Oh my god! Did I meet him and not even know it?” Shōyō has gotten up from the floor and is leaning excitedly against the edge of Tanaka’s hammock, nearly pulling the man down with him.

“Hold your horses, short stuff,” Tanaka puts his arms on either side of the hammock in an attempt to balance it. “He quit before I even joined the crew. Last I heard, he took his share of gold and retired on some uncharted island.”

“Oh…” Shōyō sinks to the ground. He’s gotten so quiet Tobio assumes he’s going to spend the rest of the night there, moping on the floor.

He rolls over, closing his eyes and waiting for the sweet embrace of slumber. He’s almost there, the heaviness setting into his limbs, when he hears Shōyō creep up behind him, whispering into his ears, “Kageyama, can you believe it? The Little Giant was here. _Like right here_.”

Tobio groans, slapping an arm across his eyes.

“Which bed do you think was his?” Shōyō says as he climbs back into his hammock. “What if it’s mine! God, I hope it’s mine.”

Tobio leans over, shaking the netting and causing Shōyō to squawk indignantly as he falls back onto the floor.

He sprawls across the floorboards, face pressed into the wood. _“I’m laying on the same ground the Little Giant stood on!”_

 

* * *

 

“So, I’ve decided to embrace being a pirate,” Shōyō declares the next morning as the two of them climb their way up the netting towards the crow’s nest.

“Let me guess, it has something to do with the Little Giant,” Tobio rolls his eyes as he hoists himself into the wooden structure. It’s been a week and he still hasn’t heard the end of it, how Shōyō is going to follow his legacy and best his idol one day.

“Well, _duh_ , but also! I found out from Bokuto that they split the profits!”

“You mean the stolen goods?”

“Not if it’s buried treasure! I mean, it’s just laying there for the taking,” Shōyō says. “I also found out they follow this thing called democracy. We get to vote and choose the leader!”

Tobio grunts in reply, taking out the spyglass and looking out at sea. There’s water, water, and would you look at that? More water. Very exciting.

“Which means I could be a captain one day! ‘Captain Shōyō’ has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Tobio snorts. “As if that would ever happen.”

“Hey!” Shōyō bumps into his shoulder. “I’ll show you! I bet I can become captain before you can! There’s no nepotism out at sea!”

“I don’t need nepotism to beat you.”

“You want to bet on it?”

Tobio narrows his eyes. “You’re on.”

 

* * *

 

Tobio learns firsthand about the perils of injury on a pirate ship. Turns out not many surgeons opt for a life of debauchery out at sea, which means the next best thing is a carpenter.

“You sure have girly hands,” Tanaka observes as he bandages the gash along Tobio’s palm, thanks in part to another battle with the potato peeler. “You a politician’s son or somethin’?”

Tobio squirms, the action not entirely from the pain of the antiseptic. “Something like that…”

Tanaka gives his hand a once over before letting it drop onto the surface of the table. “Why’d you give up a life of luxury for _this?”_ He gestures at the expanse of the room.

Permanent house arrest wasn’t exactly luxurious. Although he must admit he took indoor plumbing for granted and has begun to miss the plush of his comforter and the security of stable ground. The ship jolts in emphasis, the table beneath them shifting to the left with a loud screech, his chair following suit.

“Needed a change of scenery, I guess,” Tobio shrugs.

“I feel you,” Tanaka looks almost wistful. “My old man wanted me to settle down and take on the family business. But staying in the same old town with the same old people ain’t for everyone, you know? Sometimes you gotta get out there and see the world!”

Tobio nods.

“The money and the limitless supply of booze helps, too.” Tanaka winks. “I bet you don’t get that in the Navy.”

Tobio could do without the alcohol. He’d rather trade it for a glass of milk, but after his first enquiry for the dairy beverage and the subsequent baffled reactions of the crew members he realized that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Mind you, he’s learned from watching Shōyō that stagnant water leads to very unpleasant abdominal pain and he’ll gladly take the watered down rum if it means avoiding a day spent in the latrines.

As for the money…his gut twists as he debates vocalizing what he’s been wondering for the past few days. He has been waiting for the sound of alarms and cannon fire and the clashing of swords, but the past week has been nothing but monotonous cleaning and chores. “How exactly do you make money?”

Tanaka’s eyes gleam. “Murder.”

Tobio swallows audibly, his eyes darting to the floor.

Tanaka slaps him on the back, followed by a roar of laughter. “I’m just fucking with you. The Karasuno ain’t like that.”

He stands then, walking over to the cabinet fastened to the wall. “Captain Daichi’s a good guy, got a strong moral compass and all that,” he says. “We only fight as a last resort.” Tanaka opens the cabinet and looks through the various bottles and vials. “We spend most of our days following whatever old treasure map he’s scrounged up at the local market, hoping for some bounty at the end of it.”

Tobio’s interest is piqued, his eyes wide as he leans in excitedly. “Treasure maps?”

Tanaka hums as he picks up a bottle, squinting down at the label. “It can be pretty hit or miss,” he says as he opens the bottle and gives it a sniff. He shakes his head and puts it back down. “But not to worry, the Captain’s got some hidden funds squirreled away for when times are tough. Sometimes we’ll even take on merchant requests, transport a few barrels of goods between ports, that sort of thing.”

Tanaka opens another bottle, swirling the contents and rubbing a droplet between his fingers. Seemingly satisfied with the results, he places the bottle on the table before Tobio. “Take this. Rub it into the wound twice a day and don’t forget to change the bandage.”

Tobio nods, taking the offered medicine before quietly inquiring, “What kind of treasure do you usually find?”

“It’s a crapshoot,” Tanaka explains as he bandages Tobio’s hand. “People bury a lot of useless junk. We find mostly sentimental garbage; a pile of love letters or portraits, but sometimes there’s a family heirloom that sells for a decent penny.”

Tanaka leans back in his chair as he recounts one of their previous expeditions, “You should of seen Bokuto, he wouldn’t get out of bed for days after we found out the Eye of the Tiger was just an island full of cats. Kuroo on the other hand…”

“There you are, Peaches!” The dark haired man in question comes bounding down the hall, hoisting up a fat calico into his arms. “Go eat that big nasty rat for daddy!”

Tanaka grins.

 

* * *

 

By the third week Tobio has settled into a routine. Wake up with the sunrise, scrub the floors, adjust the rigging, and take his post looking out from the crow’s nest. The latter is an activity that involves him uneventfully staring out at the unchanging expanse of water for an hour and resisting the urge to nap. He’s only gotten caught once so far and he fears the consequences of another stern lecture from Captain Daichi.

The rest of the afternoon is spent racing Shōyō from port-side to starboard with mops in tow, their current tally at five to one. Shōyō blames sea sickness for his poor results, but Tobio knows better.

The evening gets spent prepping their slowly declining rations and scrubbing the pots and pans until the sun has settled beneath the windows and he collapses into his bunk.

Tobio spends most nights on the edge of his hammock, working with a bundle of rope and practicing a series of knots. Tonight he’s trying his hand with a needle and thread in an attempt to patch a split seam in his spare set of clothes, also borrowed from Shōyō and just as ill fitting. He makes a mental note to find a tailor as soon as they reach dry land.

Tired of pricking his thumb and getting tangled in thread, he turns around to observe Shōyō hunched over on the floor, contorting his limbs to rub lotion across the bright red burns along his back. In the dim lighting he can just make out a new row of freckles speckled across his nose.

“You know, they say gingers are bad luck on a ship,” Kuroo leers as he makes his way into the communal sleeping quarters.

“Pssh. I don’t believe in silly superstitions,” Shōyō responds, wincing as he touches a tender patch of skin, his shoulder blades peeling along the edges. Tobio considers the myth might be a direct result of their poor resilience to the sun.

His own skin is not faring much better, a burn having settled across the nape of his neck and the bridge of his nose. He’s gotten far more exposure to the elements than his hour of teatime in the family gardens back home allowed him. He’s got a fresh rope burn that runs along the length of his arm from this morning’s trials with the sails and his limbs are still heavy from exertion. But he feels a small sense of accomplishment as he looks down at his hands and feels the start of calluses forming along the tips of his fingers where the skin is no longer raw and bandaged.

 

* * *

 

On days that are particularly uneventful the crew takes to holding competitions to show off their skills and brawn. To no one’s surprise, Bokuto is the reigning champion of arm wrestling, his strength no match for Shōyō no matter how much the latter tries.

Today the crew has taken to sword fighting, a makeshift arena set up on the main deck.

“You lose again!” Kuroo jeers, the flat of his blade pressed into Lev’s side.

Lev hangs his head with a frown and droops his shoulders.

Tobio spies Tanaka on the sidelines, looking crestfallen as he exchanges a handful of coins to a delighted Nishinoya.

“Better luck next time,” Kuroo says with a grin as he drops his sword and places a comforting hand to Lev’s shoulder.

“Rematch!” Lev shouts, quickly regaining his composure before Kuroo can retreat to the cabin.

Kuroo sighs, pushing back his bangs which cling to his forehead with sweat. “Why don’t you try taking on someone closer to your skill level this time?” Tobio’s eyes widen as Kuroo points his way and Lev charges forward.

“Yama! You. Me. Fight.” Lev declares, brandishing his weapon.

“Um…” Tobio eyes the sharp blade and the lack of protective gear.

“Show him what you got!” Shōyō cheers.

“You’re not chicken, are you?” Tanaka taunts.

Shōyō nudges Tobio, a large smile spread across his face. “Come on, this will be easy for you.” He grabs one of the swords lying about and tosses it to him.

Tobio catches it with ease.

Lev grins down at Tobio, his monstrous height almost unnerving as he looms before him. He charges forward, all speed and little grace. Tobio dodges, his movements quick and rhythmic like the practiced steps of a dance. Lev comes at him again with more force behind his thrust, but Tobio parries it, the foreigner’s movements clumsy and far too easy to read.

“That all you got?” Tobio gives a wicked grin, his body thrumming with confidence as he settles into the familiar groove of battle.

Lev swears, swiping at him again only for Tobio to take advantage of his opening, holding the point of his sword to Lev’s exposed sternum.

The crew cheers, a decent sized gathering having formed around them. Tobio watches Shōyō give a devilish grin as he holds out his hand to receive the coins Tanaka and Nishinoya begrudgingly bestow upon him.

“Who wants to go next?” Tobio shouts.

“I’ll give it a shot,” Daichi says as he emerges from the crowd.

“C-Captain!” Tobio says, shock overriding the high of his victory.

“Don’t go easy on me now,” Daichi says, his voice low as he draws his blade.

Tobio falters momentarily, tripping as Daichi comes at him.

He rights himself just in time, the clang of metal ringing in his ears as he brings up his sword to defend himself.

Daichi’s form is solid, as to be expected of a captain and a seasoned pirate. His blows are strong enough to send Tobio backwards as he parries. Forced to stay on the defensive, Tobio's stamina wears thin as the battle progresses. He finds himself cornered, his back pressed into the wooden beams of the railing as he holds back Daichi’s sword a few inches from his face.

Daichi pushes forward, his blade scraping across Tobio’s cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

Tobio lifts his arms in surrender.

“Not bad,” Daichi says with raised brows as he lowers his weapon. “You take lessons?”

“A few,” Tobio says with a shrug, looking off to the side.

 

* * *

 

It is nearing the end of his shift on the crow’s nest and Tobio stretches out with a loud yawn. The sun is gleaming and rippling on the waves and he thinks his eyes are playing a trick on him when he spots the faint outline of a town on the horizon. He pulls out the spyglass, biting his lip to hold back his excitement as he peers through the glass and sees the gathering of ships along the bustling pier and the little wooden frames of houses dotting the coastline.

Tobio enthusiastically shakes Shōyō’s shoulder, waking him from his impromptu nap.

“There’s land!”

“Really?” Shōyō asks, raising his hand to wipe off a trail of drool along the corner of his mouth before swiping the spyglass from Tobio. “Gimmie that!” Shōyō nearly falls out the basket as he leans forward, Tobio holding him by the back of his blouse. “Holy shit!”

The deck below is soon crowded, everyone gathering and gawking at the sight of the town. It is not long before they reach the shore and dock the ship, Tobio stepping out with unsteady footing. He did not think he would so easily forget the sensation of solid ground beneath his feet, nor did he expect the lack of balance accompanying it.

Shōyō runs down the plank and races towards the beachfront, diving face first into a patch of soil. “Sweet, sweet dirt, I have missed you so!” He plucks a fistful of grass and tosses it in the air like confetti.

“Don’t get too comfy,” Daichi says as he exits the ship. “We’re not staying for long and Asahi’s got errands for you two to run.” He hands them a long list of what appears to be groceries and a small coin purse.

They spend a good deal of the day getting “lost” on the way to the market, Tobio and Shōyō deciding to take a detour to admire the sights and the locals. The island they’re on is so much smaller than the capital of Shiratorizawa, the buildings far more rustic and homely but nonetheless charming. Tobio finds himself mesmerized by the cracks in the cobblestone roads and seaside cottages, by the flourishing street vendors filled with the mouthwatering scents of roasting meat and freshly picked fruit. A pleasant harmony from a group of wandering musicians fills his ears as he traverses the pavilion.

Tobio peers into one of the shop windows, admiring the row of crafts put out on display. A glass blown ornament catches his eye, the tapered limb of an octopus waving in his direction. Shōyō is equally captivated, his face pressed flush to the window, although the shopkeeper seems to be the one holding his attention this time.

“You’ve got a nice eye,” Tanaka whistles as he comes up behind the pair. “She’s quite the catch.”

“She could step on me and I’d thank her,” Nishinoya whispers reverently, pressing his face to the window beside Shōyō.

Tobio sighs, dreading a repeat of the day’s earlier embarrassment. He spies the bright red handprints still visible on Tanaka and Nishinoya’s cheeks, the marks a stinging reminder of their failed attempt at demonstrating the art of “wooing the ladies.”

The four of them continue on, purchasing the last items on their list. Tobio gets caught up in the unfamiliar and harsh dialect of the shopkeepers, their new vernacular puzzling enough that he almost relates to Lev for a moment. By the time they return to the ship the sky is stained pink and orange with twilight.

“Why are there so many barrels?” Nishinoya whines as he lifts what must be the twentieth crate onto the ship and into the storage hull. “My arms are tired and I’m hungry!” He accentuates the vowels into a long whine.

“If you didn’t waste so much time flirting,” Tobio grunts as he picks up a barrel, “we would of been done already.”

“I was just trying to negotiate the price tag. Offering a date with myself is clearly worth an extra jar of pickles,” Nishinoya says, mockingly placing a hand to his heart.

“I don’t think she agreed.”

“Yes, well, some people are sadly blind to my charms.” Nishinoya turns to the side, dramatically running a hand through his hair.

“You’re just sour you couldn’t get any,” Tanaka smirks in Tobio’s direction.

Shōyō gives a hearty laugh then. “Kageyama? Flirting with a girl?” He wipes a tear from his eye. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day that happens.”

Tobio rolls his eyes and heads back outside to grab another barrel.

He doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about anyways. It’s not like any of them have time for romance, spending the majority of their days out at sea. Back home wasn’t much different. The girls his father would summon were just another distraction from his duties. He would much rather spend his allocated free time reading about adventurers or exploring the city than sitting around suffocating in perfume and talking about the weather.

 

* * *

 

The next morning begins with a commotion, Captain Daichi racing onto the deck, an old and withered piece of parchment waving in his hands.

“Listen up lads, I’ve found us a new map!”

The ship breaks out in hoots and hollers as everyone races towards him.

“A housewife overheard my conversation with the bookseller,” Daichi explains to the group of avid listeners. “Said she had an old map left behind by her great grandfather, that it had been collecting dust for years and was willing to part with it for a few silver coins.” Daichi bounces his coin purse in emphasis. “Said he claimed to be part of the Shinzen crew.”

Tobio recognizes the name.

“The famous pirate crew that robbed from a royal family eighty years ago?” Shōyō asks excitedly.

“That’s the one.” Daichi beams.

“Looks legit to me,” Yamaguchi says as he takes hold of the parchment.

“How do we know her old man wasn’t going senile? If this is another pile of buried laundry, count me out.” Bokuto is wearing an almost comical pout, his entire body drooping as he turns away.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” Daichi rubs a hand along his stomach, “I can feel it in my gut.”

“Or it’s indigestion,” Nishinoya snickers to Tanaka, earning a loud thwack against the side of both their heads by the captain.

“Alright, enough gawking, let’s get this ship sailing. We leave at noon!”

 

* * *

 

Kageyama is securing the last of the cargo from the top deck to the lower chambers when he receives a summons from Daichi. He makes his way towards the captain’s quarters when he witnesses Bokuto hoisting a screaming Shōyō into the air. Shōyō’s got his teeth digging into his bicep and his legs are flailing frantically, but Bokuto doesn’t budge an inch. Tobio makes a mental note to stay on the Quartermaster’s good side.

“You can’t just throw them away! I bought those with my own money!”

“They’re bad luck! Do you want us to die!” Tanaka hollers as he hoists a barrel precariously over the edge of the railing.

“You’re all a bunch of babies! Only little kids believe in superstitions!” Shōyō hollers.

“You don’t mess with those!” Bokuto shakes his head. “Last ship I heard of that kept them on board woke up with half the crew dead before arrival,” he says somberly.

“I heard a ship once sunk fifty feet underwater and they were the only things left floating at the surface, like an omen from the gods,” Nishinoya chimes in ominously.

“Do you listen to yourselves?” Shōyō screams, “You’re all crazy!”

“Having you on board is bad luck enough as it is! I’m not taking any chances!” Tanka throws the barrel overboard, the wood hitting the water with a loud splash.

“ _No!_ ” Hinata wails. “ _My bananas!_ ”

“Toss him over too while you’re at it!” Yamaguchi hollers from the sidelines with a laugh as he watches Shōyō struggle. Bokuto has dropped him and he’s now lunging to the side of the railing, his arms reaching out as he watches the fruit bob further away from the ship and out towards the open water.

There’s a creak of a door opening behind Tobio as Daichi steps onto the deck. “Kageyama, good, you’re here. Yamaguchi, you too. I need you both in my office.”

“Yes, Sir,” they reply in unison and head into the captain’s quarters.

“I was only joking you know,” Yamaguchi whispers as he walks beside Tobio. “I don’t actually want to throw your friend overboard. It’d be a pity, he’s rather entertaining and the boys needs someone to pick on.”

Tobio nods, not sure how to respond. He hasn’t spoken to the freckled crew member much, the latter spending most of his days hunched over the maps in the captain’s quarters and charting out paths as part of his role as Lead Navigator.

“According to our atlas,” Daichi begins as he stands behind his desk, pointing to one of the books piled atop of the newly acquired map, “these islands are on the far eastern part of the Ohgiminami dominion.”

“Which means the land in this corner must be the Johzenji islands,” Yamaguchi mutters excitedly. “But I thought those were uncharted territory?”

“As did I,” Daichi continues, “It looks like this map was a very fine purchase indeed.”

“Um, Sir?” Tobio coughs into his fist. “Why am I here?”

“You’re an educated fellow, aren’t you?” Daichi says, “I want your input.”

Tobio thinks of lying, but despite his best efforts the crew has already sensed that he’s not the commoner he claims to be, the air of a privileged childhood clinging to him much like his delicate features. “I’ve had tutors…can’t say they did any good.” Which is not a lie, most of his studies were spent napping over his coursework or racing out into the gardens with Shōyō and a wooden sword.

“Pity,” Daichi says. “Regardless, tell me everything you know about these locations.”

Tobio recalls what little encyclopedic knowledge he has of the terrain. A few port towns he remembers from his studies, and a couple stories of buccaneers who voyaged into those waters many decades ago, and the various lore surrounding their ill-fated return.

“What do half of these symbols even mean?” Tobio questions as he looks down at the aged parchment.

“Well, these are mountain ranges, and those are forested areas,” Yamaguchi points at the patches of triangular shapes. “I’ve never seen this before, but my best bet is a cavern of some sort.”

“Not those—this.” Tobio points at what looks to be a fish with limbs, climbing over an expanse of rocks.

“Probably the old map maker’s doodles,” Yamaguchi squints at the illustration. “They used to fill empty spaces with sea monsters to mark unexplored areas.”

Daichi comes up behind them, “Not all monsters are myths.” His voice is somber as he grabs a piece of graphite, charting a route that skirts around the symbol. “It’s best we avoid this area if possible.”

 

* * *

 

“How come the Captain asked you for advice,” Shōyō grumbles from his hammock that night. “I know just as much as you do!”

“Unlikely,” Tobio says, not wanting to admit his intelligence is on par with that of a prior pigeon keeper, even if he is his best friend.

“Maybe if you weren’t trying to get us all killed,” Tanaka chimes in, “then the Captain would like you more.”

“Bananas are good for you!” Shōyō says, “I don’t want to die from scurvy!”

“Then eat some citrus like the rest of us!”

“All you bought was lemons! _They’re so sour,_ ” Shōyō pouts. “Why couldn’t you get oranges like a sensible person!”

“Stop whining!” Tanaka throws a pillow, but Shōyō dodges out of the way in time for it to land squarely on Tobio’s face.

Their fighting dissolves into a fit of laughter as they watch the explosion of downy stuffing. Tobio spits out a mouthful of plumage and shakes his head, a flurry of feathers falling from his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

The clouds are sparse and the sun is hot and beaming as Tobio and Shōyō finish cleaning up the deck. Shōyō whistles a tune while he wrings out the mop along the railing with Tobio humming along off-key.

Tanaka comes up from behind and elbows Shōyō firmly in the head. “Knock it off. You trying to whistle up a storm?”

“This again!” Shōyō throws up his hands in the air. “How many ridiculous rules do you have! What am I allowed to do for fun around here!”

“You can practice your embroidery,” Kuroo grins from around the corner, pulling a lace doily out of his pocket.

“But if it’s music you want,” Nishinoya shouts as he descends from the netting above, “I can show you a thing or two!” He reaches into his vest pocket, pulling out a harmonica and playing the first few notes of a cheerful ditty.

“Hold it right there!” Kuroo shouts as he quickly darts below deck, reemerging shortly afterwards with a miniature harp in hand and Bokuto following behind like an eager puppy. He plucks at the strings and Nishinoya blows into his harmonica, Bokuto clapping along and belting the first verse of a sea shanty.

The music summons the rest of the crew who all pile onto the main deck, their feet pounding against the wooden planks as they join in the commotion. Yamaguchi brings out an accordion and even the Captain partakes in their hodgepodge of a band with a violin held to his chin.

Asahi comes above deck, a large pot of stew sloshing in his arms as he hums along and sways with the beat.

“Aren’t you going to join in?” He asks Tobio as he hands him a bowl.

Tobio flushes with embarrassment, his lack of musical talent a secret he’d rather not divulge. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“No way! Save yourselves!” Shōyō laughs, “Last time he tried to sing he broke glass!”

“Suit yourself,” Asahi grins as he moves on.

The men get rowdier as the evening passes, rum pumping through their veins and their singing more slurred by the minute. Tobio eyes the barrel of alcohol and Tanaka takes notice, quickly filling up his mug.

“No one’s going sober tonight!” Tanka shouts, raising a fist in the air.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Lev chants, accompanied by half the crew.

Tobio takes a meager sip, grimacing at the burn on the back of his tongue, far stronger than the water downed portions they’re given during the day. The crowd boos and he feels the top of his ears flush. He clenches his eyes shut and tips his head back, downing half the mug in one go. The crowd roars and Tanaka and Lev give him a firm slap on the back.

“That’s my boy! You’ll be a true pirate in no time,” Daichi shouts from across the deck, a wide smile stretched across his face.

Bokuto and Kuroo run up behind Tobio, grabbing hold of him on either side and hoisting him from the bench.

“Don’t just sit around!” Bokuto shouts. “Dance with us!”

He feels light headed as he stands, the world twirling around him, in part from the alcohol, but mainly from the force of Shōyō who’s got him linked around the elbow and is proceeding to spin them around the deck.

 _“What shall we do with the drunken sailor?”_ The crew sings in unison. _“What shall we do with the drunken sailor?”_

Tobio and Shōyō continue to twirl to the beat of the music until they lose their footing, tumbling into the mast and landing flat on their asses.

_“What shall we do with the drunken sailor, early in the morning!”_

A hand reaches down and Tobio stares up at Asahi, his eyes soft and smiling.

_“Ho! Ho! And up she rises!”_

Tobio can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from him as he takes the offered hand and climbs back to his feet.

He dances until his legs give out a second time, the sun well below the horizon. He has little recollection of making it back to his hammock, but he notices the fabric of his blanket wrapped around him as he awakens the next morning.

“Wow! Kageyama, check it out!” Shōyō shakes him and he emerges from the last dredges of slumber to see the bright red of the sky through the port window. “Look at that sunrise!”

“Red sky at night, sailors delight,” Bokuto sing-songs from the other side of the cabin.

“Red sky at morning, sailors take warning,” Kuroo finishes in tune.

“Buckle up boys, it’s going to be a rough day,” Tanaka puts a hand on either of their shoulders as he makes their way past them and up the staircase.

Tobio groans, lying back down. He can feel the last of the alcohol making its way through his system and a pounding headache at the back of his temples. The last thing he needs is more turbulence.

It would seem fate is not on his side that day, when he steps aboard deck that afternoon and sees the sky turn to gray, the clouds rolling in with a summer storm. There’s a loud rumble and the sky flashes with light. He used to enjoy a good thunderstorm, watching from the comfort of his home, wrapped in a layer of blankets and candle light. He remembers his mother holding him close, her eyes full of awe as they’d stare out the window towards the beachfront.

Being on open water during the midst of a storm however, causes a deep unease in the pit of his stomach. He feels the boat lurch as waves begin to grow in size and his nausea increases in intensity, what little he could hold down of his breakfast threatens to come back up.

There’s another clap of thunder followed by a booming voice from behind the helm as the captain shouts, “All hands on deck! Furl the back sails!” Then there’s the sound of frantic footsteps as the rest of the crew surfaces from the lower quarters, racing to their positions on the masts and quickly tying ropes around their waists.

Tobio’s hands fumble as he ties a knot around himself and begins climbing the support beams. Rain pelts against his skin, blurring his vision, and he loses his footing, slipping against the wood and grasping for the damp canvas. He finds purchase at the last moment amongst the yardarm and clings on for dear life as a wave crashes over the prow.

It takes several minutes before he can calm the shaking of his limbs to release his hold and reach out a hand to adjust the sails, clumsy fingers tying down the restraints. He looks to Enoshita who is perched beside him, a wobbly smile upon his face as he signals their work is done.

Tobio stays amongst the shrouds as he watches the ship steer its way into another oncoming wave. His skin burns with windchill and he can feel the saltwater splash against his boots even from twenty feet above.

He looks below and sees Shōyō, who was unfortunate enough to be stationed at the foremast, the brunt of a wave crashing directly against him and pooling on the deck before dispelling off the rails as the ship lurches violently to one side. Tobio clenches his eyes shut, unable to watch as another wave crashes aboard.

It feels like an eternity has passed before the ship finally reaches equilibrium, catching enough speed to get above the waves and head to calmer waters. He’s not one for praying, but he thanks the gods as the sky breaks apart, the ocean illuminated in beams of light.

His clothing clings to him like a second skin, his fingertips shriveled and sore as he slowly detaches himself from the netting and descends to the deck below. He cautiously looks to the prow, where he finds Shōyō still clutching to the mast, his small form shaking as he lurches forward and retches into the water pooled around his feet.

Tobio is grateful as he makes it below deck and grabs one of the large cotton towels that Asahi distributes amongst the crew. He pauses a moment in front of his belongings as he grabs a set of dry clothes, waiting for his breathing to even out.

“At least I don’t have to worry about bathing,” Shōyō gives a shaky laugh as he pries off his soggy clothes and cocoons himself in a towel. His face is stark white and he’s got a large clump of seaweed tangled in his hair.

They have little time to dwell as they spend the rest of the afternoon emptying buckets of saltwater off the side of the ship and clearing off any marine passengers that made it aboard. Kuroo orders them to catch the few flopping fish left slowly dying in the puddles that remain and to prepare them for dinner.

Tobio says nothing of it when night falls and Shōyō finds his way into his hammock, his smaller hands clinging against his nightshirt. He’s thankful for the other’s company, the gentle snoring masking Tobio's labored breathing as he awakens from a night terror, his lungs aching from the sensation of drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the first five chapters are already in my rough drafts I plan to stick to a weekly/bi-weekly posting schedule. Be sure to check back on Sundays for updates!
> 
> If you want to scream in my inbox about Oikage with me, please feel free to do so at my [tumblr](http://deadfreckledboys.tumblr.com/).


	2. A Siren's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After dealing with a sudden storm, the Karasuno crew find themselves lost in dangerous waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to [ Rokutagrl ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rokutagrl/pseuds/Rokutagrl) and [Deadseasalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadseasalt/pseuds/deadseasalt) for betaing!
> 
> Also, warning for a brief mention of a bird dying at the start of the chapter.

“Our coordinates are all off,” Yamaguchi says with his hands threaded in his hair as he steps away from the sextant sitting by the windowsill. “We could be anywhere in this region,” he gestures to a portion of the map.

“How long of a delay before we’re back on course?” Daichi questions from across the desk as he paces back and forth.

“In perfect conditions? Two days,” Yamaguchi pauses, looking out the window, “but judging by these winds it could take over a week.”

Tobio feels the stagnant air from the doorway, the breeze so minute the sails hardly sway.

“Kageyama, go report to Asahi to take stock of our provisions,” Daichi orders. “It might be tight rations from here on out.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m tired of this damn biscuit and jerky!” Shōyō groans as the end of the week approaches. “I want meat! Fresh meat!”

Tobio frowns as he watches his fishing line bob listlessly amongst the waves. He twitches his eyebrow as an albatross swoops down from above, catching a fish in mere moments.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” There’s an edge in Shōyō’s voice that Tobio thinks resembles that of a man going mad.

Shōyō stands up from the railing, cupping his hands to his face and mimicking the cry of a bird.

Definitely gone mad.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tobio asks.

“Putting my old life skills to good use!” Shōyō says, before shoving at Tobio. “Now shut up before it gets away!”

Tobio returns to his fishing rod, watching Shōyō out of the corner of his eye as the other continues to holler. Amazingly the albatross swoops down to greet him, Shōyō deftly catching it in his hands.

“Come to papa.” There’s a deranged look in his eyes and Tobio quickly turns away when he hears the pop of bones.

“Kageyama! Tonight we feast!” Shōyō proudly hoists his kill above his head.

“You _didn’t!”_ Shouts a voice from above and Nishinoya quickly slides down the ropes. “Is that an albatross? Are you out of your mind!”

“No, I’m a genius!” Shōyō declares. “Why haven’t any of you thought of this?”

“God damn it, Hinata!” Tanaka roars as he stomps his way over from the back of the ship. “Do you have a death wish?”

“I’m going to die if I don’t eat something other than these fucking maggot infested biscuits!” Shōyō yells, kicking a lump of stale bread laying beside him.

“Don’t you know an albatross holds the souls of lost sailors?” Tanaka shouts.

“How would I know that! None of this is common sense!” Shōyō flails his arms, the dead bird flopping listlessly in his hands.

“Now you’ve gone and cursed us all!” Tanaka wails. “I should of thrown you overboard when I had the chance!”

Tobio quickly shuffles away from the oncoming tussle, feathers flying in the air as Tanaka lunges at Shōyō.

He makes his way down the deck and passes the captain’s quarters, popping inside when Daichi inquires about the ruckus.

“Hinata did something stupid,” Tobio grunts, “again.”

“Ah, the usual then,” Daichi sits back in his chair, looking relieved. “Try and stop them if you can. Yamaguchi spotted rocky waters up ahead and I need everyone to be on high alert.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Tobio is halfway out the door when he hears a shrill cry, thinking for a moment it belongs to Shōyō, until it rises in pitch, his ears ringing with the intensity of it.

“Stop! Close the door!” Daichi shouts, his face going pale.

“What in the hell was that?” Yamaguchi cries out from the other side of the room.

Daichi pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before whispering, “ _Sirens_.”

Tobio’s blood runs cold.

“Yamaguchi, come with me,” Dachi instructs as he stands suddenly, walking to the far side of the room and opening the door to his personal chambers. “Kageyama, go outside and instruct the crew to cover their ears and head below deck.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“And whatever you do, don’t listen to their song.”

Tobio slams the door behind him with his shoulder blade, racing onto the deck with his hands clutched against his ears, the action only mildly muffling the noise. “Cover your ears!” He shouts. “Captain’s orders! Get below deck, now!” The crew disperses from their positions at the helm and sails and begin crowding their way into the small doorframe leading downwards.

“What?” Shōyō shouts from where he lays, sprawled across a pile of feathers, Tanaka straddling his waist and clutching onto the front of his shirt. Tobio can see a splotch of red smeared across Shōyō’s nose. “I can’t hear you with my ears covered!”

“Give me a minute, I’m not done pounding some sense into him!” Tanaka shouts, readying his fist for another punch. “You hear that noise? It’s the sound of all the lost souls you just set free!”

Shōyō moves his hands to guard his face and Tobio huffs. “You idiots! It’s sirens!”

Tobio stomps over to them, ready to pry them apart and lug them both below deck if necessary, but instead they both clamber to their feet at the mention of sirens, their faces going pale.

“N-No way,” Shōyō gives a nervous laugh, quickly covering his ears once again.

“Shit!” Tanaka mutters, looking around frantically. “Where’s Noya?”

Tobio looks up to find Nishinoya swinging on a rope and making his way towards the bowsprit.

“Do you guys see what I’m seeing?” Nishinoya shouts in awe. “There’s all these hot babes in the water!”

“They’re called sirens, you nitwit!” Tanaka shouts after him, letting go of his ears to climb his way onto the rigging.

“Wait, it’s too dangerous!” Shōyō shouts after them.

Tobio snarls, quickly looking for the nearest pile of ropes and grabbing four. He ties them to the front mast and secures one to his waist before racing towards the group of idiots, throwing them the remaining three and quickly cupping his hands to ears, the sound of the screams near deafening and ringing against his temples.

Shōyō drops his hands to grab hold of the offered rope and begins to loop it around his waist when he pauses suddenly, his gaze darting out at the ocean. “Kageyama, look!”

Tobio searches but all he sees is sea foam and the sharp jutting rocks looming in the distance.

“There’s nothing there, Birdbrain! Now put on your harness!”

Instead, Shōyō begins to climb onto the railing, his finger pointing down below. “There are women! Beautiful women!”

“Get down from there!” Tobio yells.

“And beautiful men!” Shōyō’s eyes are glossy.

“They’re not real!” Tobio shouts.

“You’re lying!” Shōyō lets one leg dangle off the edge. “They’re right there!”

“You’re going to die!”

“No, I’m going to be seduced!”

“You’re going to get eaten!”

“I don’t care!”

“What’s wrong with you!” Tobio screams.

“You can’t stop me!” Shōyō shouts before letting go of the railing.

Tobio lunges forward, just barely grabbing on to the hem of his shirt. He hooks his legs along the wooden beams of the railing for balance and lunges backwards, pulling up Shōyō and flinging both of them onto the floor with a heavy thump.

“Stay still— _Dammit!_ ” Tobio grunts as he sits atop of the flailing ginger to restrain him. He can feel a bruise forming on his ribcage where Shōyō lands a solid hit before Tobio finally secures the rope to his waist. He loops it short enough that even if the moron tries to jump over again he’ll just dangle off the side like one of the lifeboats.

Tanaka and Nishinoya swing by overhead, hollering out at the water and Tobio scrambles to get back on his feet.

“Hold on, fair maidens! We’ll be with you shortly!” They shout in unison, both of them reaching out an arm towards the waves.

“Noya! I’ve got a plan!” Tanaka shouts as the two of them climb from the rigging to the tip of the bowsprit. Tobio watches in horror as Tanaka eases Nishinoya down, holding him by the ankles as the other reaches out into the oncoming waves.

Tobio wrestles his way onto the narrow wood jutting in front of the ship until he reaches the disastrous duo. He takes advantage of Tanaka’s turned back and hunched over position, wrapping the rope around him several times and securing him to the bowsprit for good measure. The motion jolts Tanaka’s grip and he nearly drops Nishinoya, the other now dangling by a single ankle, his palms caressing the rising ocean waves—which are starting to resemble the shape of hands.

Tobio freezes, now realizing the sound of the screams have transitioned into something else, an almost melodic mess of words, too garbled for him to discern their meaning. His hands shake as he grabs onto Nishinoya’s other ankle and secures the rope, letting him flail wildly towards the sea as he dangles against his will.

Satisfied that the knot will hold, he cautiously makes his way back on deck. He allows himself a quick glance at the ocean, the watery hands now connected to an equally watery torso, the humanoid shape framed by sea foam hair. He quickly averts his gaze, dropping to the floor and clawing at his ears. His head throbs, the warped song echoing in his mind.

There’s a loud, piercing sound of wood scraping against stone and he finds himself rolling along the floor, back smacking into the mast as the ship jolts with impact. He stands, making a dash towards the stern and getting yanked backwards, the rope taught against his waist as he reaches the end of its length. He tears at the knots with trembling fingers before racing towards the abandoned helm on unsteady legs. He makes a frantic turn of the wheel, his grip white knuckled as he tries to steer clear of the remaining rocks that are making their way front and center.

He holds his breath as he waits out the delay between the motion of the wheel and rudders, letting out a sigh of relief as the ship turns sharply and just narrowly out of reach of a certain rocky death. He catches a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye, turning starboard to see the splash of a large fin diving beneath the waves.

He’s startled when he feels the firm grasp of a hand against his forearm, the Captain standing at his side, brows furrowed as he offers Tobio a piece of wax. He points at his ears, where Tobio spots a similar shine. It takes him a moment to pry his hands from their deadlock against the wheel and take the offering, rolling it into two pieces and sliding them into his ears.

The silence is almost unsettling, the song gone in an instant and the throbbing in his head slowly receding. Yamaguchi returns from below deck shortly after, a few of the crew members following suit, the shine of wax present in their ears as they all take their places at the sails. Tobio steps aside, letting Daichi take over at the helm, the ship turning far more gracefully in his hands as he navigates them out of the rocky terrain.

 

* * *

 

“Good job today!” Lev claps Tobio on the back as they make their way to the dining quarters late into the evening after the crew has finished helping repurpose a pile of crates and barrels into a temporary patch for the tattered hull of the ship. “Your knots are good now! Big improvement!”

“They’re too good,” Shōyō grumbles as he walks past them. “I’ve got rope burn from where you tied me up.”

“You ain’t seen nothing!” Nishinoya shouts, tearing off his boots to show off the red ring around his ankles. “ _And_ I’m still light headed from hanging upside down for over an hour!”

“That was your own fault,” Tobio huffs.

“Give the guy a break,” Kuroo says as they make their way to the tables. “He saved your sorry asses.”

“How’d you do it?” Bokuto pries as Tobio sits down with a bowl of bland soup, the dried meat and hardtack doing little to help his lack of an appetite.

“Do what?” Tobio scowls into his bowl.

“Resist the sirens!”

Tobio twirls his spoon, watching the liquid ripple. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re tone deaf,” Shōyō sticks out his tongue and dodges Tobio’s jabbing elbow.

“Or maybe he’s got no libido,” Tanaka snickers behind a closed fist.

Shōyō gives an approving hum, nodding along with a hand on his chin. “That would explain a lot. You know, I’ve never heard you talk fondly about girls,” Shōyō pauses, “or boys for that matter.”

“No way!” Nishinoya shoves playfully at Tobio’s side.

Tobio pinches his brows. “Shut up.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t found _the one,_ ” Yamaguchi says wistfully from across the table.

“We’ll see about that,” Tanaka says. “Kuroo, you know a good brothel or two, don’t you?”

Tobio drops his spoon, his stomach going sour.

“Leave the poor kid alone,” Asahi chastises. “What you did today was really brave, Kageyama. You saved all of our lives. The Karasuno is in your debt.”

“Yeah! Three cheers to Kageyama!” Tanaka raises his mug and the rest of the crew follows suit. “We owe you a reward! Tell you what, as soon as we land we’ll head straight to the Red Light District! The whores are on me!”

Tobio hunches his shoulders, trying to shrink himself around his bowl.

 

* * *

 

“Another round!” Tanaka shouts, foam sloshing out the sides of his mug.

“Easy there fella, maybe finish your glass before you order another,” The barmaid chastises as she places a steaming plate of roasted meat atop the table.

“Have I told you I missed this? Because I missed this,” Shōyō says as he scarfs down another rack of ribs. “Sweet, glorious meat!” He moans around another mouthful, the sound almost illicit.

Tobio sits beside him, nursing a tall glass of cold milk and watching a group of patrons across the way.

“Those damn Shiratorizawa soldiers are at it again,” says one of the men who slams his mug against the countertop. “They sent another squadron last night, said they suspect there’s a rebellion forming.”

“I bet it's just an excuse for them to tighten their grip on our land. Those bastards nearly raided my farm the other day,” replies an old man in a straw hat. “With the dry spell we’ve been having, I’ll hardly be able to feed my family let alone their damn greedy mouths.”

“Well I’ve heard rumors,” whispers a young woman at the same table, “that the old family’s heir made it out alive. I hear he’s even leading the supposed rebellion himself!”

“Poppycock! He died at sea just like the whole lot of them,” another woman at the table says as she crosses her heart. “Bless their souls. I don’t trust that devil Wakatoshi one bit. I hear he murdered his own wife in cold blood.”

“Well I heard she died out at sea, eaten by sirens no less!”

Tobio looks away, downing his glass and quickly standing. “I’m going to go check in on the Captain,” he says as he excuses himself and exits the tavern.

Daichi is at the dock on the far side of town. It takes Tobio a good thirty minutes to make his way by foot through the moderately sized port city, passing by the rainbow of houses cluttered along the beachfront. He spots Daichi standing beside a man with a bright yellow head of hair, a row of earrings shining along his left side and an apron tied around his waist. Tobio stands a few feet away as he waits for them to finish conversing.

“Like I said, you’re lucky you even managed to make it back here in one piece with a hole like that,” the blonde man says.

“Tanaka did his best to patch her up with what was available. I’m fortunate that was the only damages she sustained,” says Daichi. “How long do you figure the repairs will take?”

“A month. Two at most. I’ve still got the storefront to watch so I can’t dedicate all my time.”

“That’s quite alright, Ukai, thank you for your assistance, as always.”

The blonde man, Ukai, puts his hand on Daichi’s shoulder, a large grin on his face. “No worries! You know me and the Old Man always have your back! I’ll even give you a family discount.”

Daichi gives a small smile, his eyes darting to the ground. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to afford even that. We damaged the ship before we could make it to our destination, so our funds are at a bare minimum at the moment.”

“Let me talk to the Old Man, I’m sure he’s got a few errands he can have you run and you’ll pay him back in no time.”

The two of them begin to walk away from the dock, leaving the Karasuno, and heading towards town. Tobio feels something knot in his stomach as he stares at the state of the ship, looking worse for wear as it lies beached upon the sand, a canvas sling and a series of ropes not quite masking the large crack splitting the left side of the hull.

“Captain!” Tobio calls out before they make it much further. “Do you need anything?”

“Kageyama, my boy!” Daichi gestures to the other man, “This is Ukai, an old friend of mine. His father was the previous captain of the Karasuno, back in her glory days.”

The thought of a previous captain feels odd. Tobio can’t imagine anyone but Daichi leading the crew.

“Why don’t you head to the shop with us. I’ve got a few errands you can run,” Ukai says.

_Sakanoshita General Store_ reads the sign in big, wooden letters across the front of the little waterfront shop. The inside is quaint, the windowpanes in need of repair and some of the floor tiles are cracked along the grooves. The interior is cluttered with various goods such as fishing wire and bait along with leather crafts and a table of fresh produce.

“I’ve got a list of stock we need picked up from the local vendors,” Ukai instructs as he hands Tobio a piece of paper with scratchy lines of ink. “Think you can handle it?”

Tobio nods eagerly.

The next few weeks pass in a blur of manual labor, Tobio transporting crates of goods halfway across town until his legs ache. He spends the evenings curled up at the fireplace of the tavern where the crew is residing while the ship is under maintenance. He is grateful for the soft feather mattress and down comforter, but he finds himself restless and waiting for the rocking motion of the sea, a sense of almost homesickness setting upon him as the days progress.

 

* * *

 

Tanaka bursts a bottle of champagne against the wooden frame when the day finally arrives, the Karasuno launching back into deep water.

“Isn’t that stuff expensive? Why would you waste a whole bottle like that?” Shōyō questions as they all make their way to the edge of the dock to board.

“It’s for good luck, you dumbass,” Tanaka shakes the shard of broken glass in the air. “Have you learned nothing!”

The first few days pass with ease, the ocean calm and everyone excited to return to a life at sea. Tobio almost finds comfort in the monotony of cleaning the floors and adjusting the sails—especially in comparison to the awkward small talk with unfamiliar shopkeepers and navigating crowded pavilions.

Once he is firmly settled back into his common routine, Tobio finds himself getting called into the captain’s quarters.

“Kageyama, I’ve got a proposition for you,” Daichi says, his hands clasped in front of him as he sits at the large oak table.

“Yes, Sir?” Tobio swallows, his nerves getting the better of him.

“As I’ve mentioned previously, I’m greatly impressed with your work under pressure during our run-in with the sirens.” Tobio flushes, his hands fidgeting with his sleeve as the Captain continues, “I’ve been discussing it with Yamaguchi and I think I’d like to promote you to Assistant Navigator.”

“What?” Tobio furrows his brows, “Really?”

“Well, your steering could use some work,” Yamaguchi laughs lightly, “but you’ve got potential!”

“Um,” Tobio says, squirming under the attention, a small smile graced upon his cheeks, “Thank you. That’d be an honor.”

Tobio opens the door to leave and hears a loud squawk as Shōyō is knocked backwards, his eavesdropping disrupted. Shōyō stands back up, only to barrel into him. “No way!” He shouts, pounding his small hands against Tobio. “You’re already being promoted?”

“Obviously,” Tobio says, puffing out his chest as Shōyō looks on in disbelief.

“Unfair!” Shōyō stomps his foot. “This doesn’t mean anything! I’ll catch up to you soon enough!”

“I’d like to see you try.” Tobio gives a devilish grin.

 

* * *

 

Time is hard to come by over the next few months. The Karasuno sails rapidly between the island nations of Nekoma and Fukurōdani, exchanging various crates of goods before returning to the capital of Izumitate for another round of deliveries with the Ukai family.

The ship is understaffed, Tobio having to dedicate a large portion of his time to helping Asahi take stock of their increasing cargo shipments. When he’s not too exhausted from the new slew of physical labor he spends his nights curled up in front of the oil lamp in the captain’s quarters, trying his best to absorb as much knowledge from Yamaguchi as possible. His travel log quickly fills with rudimentary maps of their destinations and the constellations hanging above them.

Tobio is sitting in the dining quarters one morning, hunched over his journal as he tries to come up with an alternate route to their next destination. The Navy is surveying the ports with more frequency as of late and Captain Daichi has suggested they avoid detection.

He can hear the crack of eggshells and the fire burning in the kitchen behind him. Shōyō had insisted on purchasing a chicken at their last stop in town, not wanting to be stranded yet again in the middle of the ocean without a proper meal.

“What are you doing?” He hears Shōyō ask.

Tobio makes out the voice of Tanaka replying, “Breaking the egg shells.”

“They’re already broken.”

“They gotta be _this_ small.” Tobio looks up to see Tanaka holding his index finger to his thumb.

“Um,” Shōyō gives him a look. “Do I even want to ask why?”

“You don’t want a witch to float on one of these and hop onboard.”

Shōyō’s face falls, his mouth agape. “You’re kidding me.”

Tanaka looks at him, his eyes fierce, “I’m dead serious.”

“This is the dumbest one yet!” Shōyō throws up his hands, letting the egg shell soar through the air.

Another shell goes flying and Tobio drops his journal to shout, “Stop messing around and finish breakfast!”

“Shut up!” Shōyō shouts back, followed by a loud squeal. Tanaka stands behind him, his arms thrown around his waist as he holds back a fit of laughter, watching the bright yellow yolk drip down Shōyō’s forehead.

Chaos ensues, eggs flying back and forth as Shōyō retaliates. Tobio hides a chuckle behind his fist as he watches the fight unfold from a safe distance. It reminds him of the time Shōyō snuck him into the kitchens, stealing a taste of batter from one of the bowls and toppling a bag of flour in their hasty retreat—only this time they have to clean the mess they make. But he doesn’t mind, he thinks, smiling into the handle of the mop as he watches Tanaka and Shōyō battle over the bucket of soapy water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the second chapter and for being patient with the lack of Oikawa. (Fear not, he is about to make his grand entrance in the next chapter)
> 
> I'll have the next update out in a week or two (so the 20th or 27th).


	3. Holding a Grudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa knows he is willing to do anything it takes to accomplish his goal, but he never expected he'd have to go this far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the slight delay! I found myself trying to manhandle an Ikea wardrobe and catch up on a certain video game franchise before the big release date. But here it is, chapter 3! Oikawa finally makes his big appearance and I hope you enjoy it C:
> 
> Also warning for some pirate-typical violence in this chapter.

Oikawa’s clothes are damp, the oversized material clinging to his skin and providing much needed relief from the burning sun above. His legs are unsteady as he steps aboard the wooden vessel, in part from the oversized boots he hastily borrowed before he followed the crowd at the edge of the dock. His anxieties quell slightly when he notices the other new recruits doing much the same, their hands grabbing onto the rails for stability as the ship begins to embark toward open water.

“Listen up, you feckless neophytes,” shouts a man standing in the center of the main deck. A large black hat lies atop his dark head of hair, and an elegant blue coat with golden embroidery is laced upon his broad figure. “I’m Hajime Iwaizumi, though you will refer to me as Captain from here on out. You’re now members of the illustrious Aobajohsai, King Wakatoshi’s trusted Imperial Navy.

“I expect you all to be on your best behavior,” he addresses to the crowd. “There will be no rough housing aboard my vessel or there will be consequences to pay.” Iwaizumi stomps his way across the floorboards, staring down at each new recruit. “Those of you found to be tapping into more than their fair share of liquor will find themselves flogged or else booted the next time we dock.”

He squints his eyes at a new recruit, one with blonde hair and stripes shaved through the sides. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sir!” The boy shouts gruffly and everyone else follows suit.

Iwaizumi approaches Oikawa last, “I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, Sir~” Oikawa lilts, a fake smile plastered to his cheeks.

“That’s better,” Iwaizumi grunts. “Now get to work!”

Oikawa bites his lip as he makes his way below deck where the rest of the recruits are directed to attain their uniforms and cleaning supplies. He’s handed a dark blue jacket, a far less impressive version than the one the Captain was sporting, by a man with stark white hair.

“That’s quite the necklace you have there,” he says as he eyes the swirled periwinkle shell dangling below Oikawa’s collarbone.

“It’s a…family heirloom,” Oikawa mutters as he adjusts the fabric of his billowy blouse to hide the jewelry.

The man hums. “Nice to meet you. I’m Suga, the First Mate.” He extends his hand for a shake.

Oikawa eyes him warily, there is a certain air about him that differs from the other men aboard the ship, a glow to his features that is almost refreshing. He thinks perhaps he simply bathes more than the other land vermin and leaves it at that.

“Oikawa,” he replies, returning the gesture.

He spends the rest of his afternoon begrudgingly cleaning his new living quarters, the old crew cackling as the new recruits sludge through their filth.

“You better make sure everything is spotless!” demands a tall officer, his head shaped rather like a turnip.

“Don’t want you newcomers catching dysentery,” snickers a different crew member, one with beady eyes and a large forehead.

Oikawa bites his tongue, his face settling into a grimace. The whole lot of them could catch the plague for all he cares, but he has to be patient. Can’t have the crew dying before he reaches his goal.

Over the next several weeks, Oikawa quietly observes the different men aboard the ship. He mimics their actions easily enough; mopping the deck a simple task, manning the cannons only moderately more exasperating. He finds working with the sails to be the best of it, the gentle roar of the ocean a soothing soundtrack as he bides his time.

 

* * *

 

Late one evening he happens upon Kunimi, a rather listless looking sailor, having a discussion with the Captain.

“We’re a few miles off the coast of Izumitate,” he explains in a dry monotone. “We should be approaching land within the next few days.”

“Excellent,” Iwaizumi remarks. “If we keep this pace up, we should be able to secure the port in time for the arrival of King Wakatoshi’s merchant fleet.”

Oikawa’s curiosity piques and he takes a look at the map held loosely between the other’s palms. He takes a gander out at the sea, spotting a tall patch of coral peeking out behind the sea foam and the twist of the waves curling around it.

“I think your calculations are off,” Oikawa chimes in, the gentle lull of his voice startling the two of them.

“Excuse me?” Kunimi glares at him with heavy lids.

“If you look over here, you can see the ocean currents converging.” Oikawa points starboard before licking a strip of his finger and holding it to the wind. “And with this wind direction, you’re actually heading over here.” He directs their attention to a new spot on the map.

“That’s…” Kunimi frowns down at the parchment. “Correct, actually.”

“Well, I’ll be,” Iwaizumi gives a firm smack to the side of Oikawa’s arm. “Looks like we picked up someone useful for once.” He turns towards the prow, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Adjust the sails!”

Oikawa feels a small sense of satisfaction at the praise and definitely appreciates the change of demeanor in the crew as he gets moved up a rank to being one of the navigators. He finds his glass of rum is less diluted, much to the pleasure of his bunkmates Mattsun and Makki, as he pours a good deal of it into their glasses instead. Oikawa himself has little desire to drink after watching the pathetic interactions of the other crew, a poor lad having almost fallen overboard the other evening.

Speaking of a drunken disaster, he spots the feisty blonde with the perpetual scowl, up in arms with the four-eyes at the end of the dining hall.

“What’d you say to me?” he snarls, spit foaming at the corners of his mouth much like a mad dog.

“I said you’re pathetic,” replies the four-eyes with a wicked smirk. Tsukishima is his name, if he recalls correctly. “You won’t last another month.”

“Calm it down,” Iwaizumi steps between the two. “Leave the fighting for the pirates.”

“I’ll kill every last pirate and then _you_ ,” the mad dog snarls, pushing against Iwaizumi and getting into Tsukishima’s personal bubble.

“I’d like to see you try.” There’s no hint of fear in Tsukishima’s cold blooded eyes.

“When _are_ we going to fight pirates?” Oikawa loudly whines. “Isn’t that why we’re all here? I’m getting rather tired of this monotony.”

“Yeah!” roars the crowd of men, their cutlery chiming against the tabletop as they slam down their fists. “Let’s kill those bastards!”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and groans, “I’m getting tired of the whole lot of you.”

 

* * *

 

It seems Oikawa would have his wish granted, as the next afternoon he hears shouting from the crow’s nest that they’ve spotted a foreign vessel approaching. There’s a large commotion aboard the ship as everyone takes position at the sails, setting straight ahead for a collision.

“Fire!” Makki shouts from below deck, followed by the roar of a sailing cannon ball. They fire continuously until they hear the crack of wood and watch the mast splinter and fall to its side, taking half the sails down with it.

The other crew doesn’t seem to be giving up, their men running on deck, swords raised in the air as they set out a gangplank and begin to board the Aobajosai once the two ships are a few meters apart.

Oikawa leaves his post at the sails and unsheathes the sword at his waist, his first real use of the weapon since joining the ship. His grip is clumsy and he fumbles as he is approached by a man who is as tall and sturdy as a wall, his scowl accentuated by the lack of eyebrows.

The two parry until the tall man corners Oikawa against one of the support beams. He knocks Oikawa’s sword straight out of his hand with brute strength and aims a strike at his jugular. Oikawa ducks just in time, hearing the thunk of metal embedded in wood.

The man fumbles while trying to dislodge his sword and Oikawa uses the distraction to reach for the knife along his belt loop, rolling between the man’s legs, and emerging behind him. He puts the knife to the man’s throat, pulling back the blade and exposing a wet strip of flesh.

The man struggles, his large hands grasping at Oikawa’s smaller form. Oikawa can feel the weight of his grip bruising at his shoulder, but he continues to put force on his blade until he hears the crunch of bone and feels the man’s head loll to the side. Oikawa watches the body fall and then looks to his hands, now damp and sticky with blood. He licks them clean before being startled by a loud voice, the captain shouting for him and running towards his side.

Iwaizumi places an arm around his shoulder. “That’s the last of them! I was worried for a minute there when I saw you lost your sword but you handled that exceptionally well.” His smile is dampened as he looks closer at the corpse lying still at Oikawa’s feet. “ _Impressive_.”

Oikawa grins, his teeth stained red.

 

* * *

 

“Three cheers for victory!” Iwaizumi shouts, his mug filled to the brim with rum as the crew celebrates at night fall.

“Drink up!” Iwaizumi pushes a similar mug into Oikawa’s hands. “You did great out there for your first battle!” He gives a firm punch to his shoulder. “Although your sword skills could use some finesse.”

Oikawa looks at the liquor, his disappointed reflection staring back up at him, his mood having soured earlier after failing to spot his target on the fallen vessel. “Looks like I’ll be stuck with you lot longer than I expected, so what the hell!” He tips his head back, taking a large mouthful. The burn is almost pleasant and he takes another. And another. Soon his second glass is empty and he feels a pleasant tingling in his limbs.

“Tch, pathetic.” Four-eyes tuts as he makes his way past the gathering and down to the sleeping quarters.

“Who put a stick in his ass?” Oikawa exclaims, his words coming out in a slur. “Thinks he’s too good for us! Why’s he even here!”

“I hear he’s out for revenge,” Makki whispers behind his hand.

“Said he won’t stop until every last pirate is dead,” Mattsun says somberly.

That sets off one of the cabin boys, Watari—or was it Watachi— who gives a tearful confession of joining the crew to bring honor to his family, some group of nobles or other who have fallen out of favor with the king.

“I’m just here for the cold hard cash,” Mattsun grins.

“I’ll drink to that!” Makki shouts.

“What about you?” Mattsun turns to Oikawa.

“Revenge.” He bluntly replies, looking down at his newly filled mug. Maybe he’s got something in common with four-eyes after all.

“Oh?” Makki grins. “Some pirates crash your party? Steal your lady?”

“That vile vermin didn’t just steal from me! He ruined my reputation and my _honor_ ,” Oikawa’s fingers clutch at the mug. “When I find that damn pirate captain I’ll tear him limb from limb.”

“A captain?” Iwaizumi gives him a look. “Of which ship?”

“How should I know.”

“Did you at least catch his name?”

“Not a clue.”

“Why don’t you try describing him? Maybe we have records of when they were last spotted.”

“He was cunning and intelligent.” Oikawa can feel his blood boiling just at the thought of him. “Tall and pale, but well sculpted.” He can picture him as vividly as if he were standing beside him, “His hair was dark as a raven and his eyes as deep and blue as the sea.”

There’s a snicker from Mattsun and Makki.

“You sure you’re not describing a scorned lover?” Mattsun teases.

“He stole his honor, _you don’t think he…?_ ” Makki whispers conspiratorially before bursting into another fit of laughter.

Iwaizumi gives him a questioning look. “I haven’t heard of any captain that fits that description, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out.”

 

* * *

 

The months pass and Oikawa grows more and more restless as their pirate encounters prove fruitless. They fight off a group of bandits with beady eyes and twisted smiles like a snake and an energetic crew dressed in bright yellows, but there is not a single sign of the man who haunts him.

He takes out his growing frustration through fencing lessons, Iwaizumi helping him hone in on his swordplay on the days the sea is calm and listless.

“You’ve improved,” Iwaizumi wipes sweat off his brow as he pushes back the sword Oikawa holds to his chest.

“One more time,” Oikawa huffs, his breathing uneven.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” Iwaizumi steadies his glare as Oikawa holds his fighting stance. He relents to one more round and then forces Oikawa down below deck for cleaning duty.

He waits until the middle of the night when the tides calm and the ship is anchored a few miles from the harbor. There is the loud ringing of metal and the scuffling of a blade on wood as Oikawa attacks his makeshift target, a broken barrel filled with a pile of hay.

Iwaizumi happens upon him as his shift approaches, his eyes looking to the heavens as he watches Oikawa exert himself further.

“What part of take a break don’t you understand?” Iwaizumi chastises him with a firm smack to the back of Oikawa’s head.

“Ow! Iwa-dearest, how mean!”

“That’s _Captain_ to you, Shitty-kawa!” Iwaizumi gives him another firm strike on the head.

“Don’t call me that!” Oikawa crosses his arms.

“Then stop looking like shit!” Iwazumi gives him a once over, “You look as if someone smothered charcoal under your eyes. Go get some damn sleep!”

Oikawa sheaths his sword as he begrudgingly complies, stomping his feet down the staircase towards the lower deck. He lies awake upon his hammock, imagining the strike of his sword upon the black haired fiend. He grins to himself as he visualizes the other boy crumpling to the ground, bleeding out at Oikawa’s feet, his heart clutched between Oikawa’s fingers.

 

* * *

 

“You’re not half-bad,” Tsukishima grins, the point of his sword aimed at Oikawa’s face. “But you’ll have to be better than that.”

Oikawa accepts the challenge. The sound of clashing swords fills the air as they battle for another round. Besides their common distaste for pirates, he’s learned little else of the four-eyes since joining and so Oikawa takes the opportunity to engage him in small talk. “So, Tsukki—”

“Don’t call me that,” Tsukishima snarls, his eyes glinting as he darts forward and jabs at Oikawa, not bothering to hold back the force of his thrust.

Oikawa clutches at his side, the fabric of his blouse torn and bloody. “What the fuck!” Oikawa yells. “So much for friendly sparring.”

“You’re not my friend,” Tsukishima spits at him, his sword clattering to the ground as he stomps away.

“What’s up with him?” Oikawa mutters to himself as he enters the captain’s quarters in search of a roll of bandages.

Suga hums as Oikawa walks in. He’s hunched behind one of the oak desks, jotting down something on a piece of parchment.

Oikawa stoops down to open one of the desk drawers and takes a peak over Suga’s shoulder, reading aloud, “‘ _To my dearest Sawamura_ ’—You writing a love letter?” Oikawa teases.

“That’s none of your—” Suga begins, quickly dropping his quill when he notices the gash along Oikawa’s side. “You’re injured!”

“Thanks to that four-eyed brat,” Oikawa hisses as Suga pushes him into one of the plush chairs and begins to examine the wound.

“Tsukishima?” Suga questions as he rummages through the drawers.

Oikawa nods, wincing as Suga pours rubbing alcohol along the wound.

“He’s—” Suga frowns, the look not suited for his pleasant features, Oikawa thinks. “It takes a while for him to warm up to anyone,” Suga pauses, “and a lot of alcohol.”

“Heh.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but someone important to him was taken by pirates as a child. And let’s just say he’s not prone to forgiveness.”

“That’s understandable.” Oikawa shrugs.

“He’s a good guy and he’s one of our top sailors. It’s a pity he’s so stuck in the past.” Suga huffs as he takes another look at the wound and reaches over to pick up a needle. “Much like someone else I know.”

“Ouch!” Oikawa bites down on his fist as Suga puts in the first stitch. “What are you implying?” He narrows his eyes. Even if they share an affinity for holding a grudge, Oikawa’s frustration is much more recent. “I was affronted only a few months ago!”

Suga gives him a look. He ties off the thread while saying, “Try and restrain yourself. Lay off the swordplay for the next week or two until I can remove the stitches.”

Oikawa crosses his arms indignantly. “Fine.” Suga finishes wrapping a bandage around his waist and Oikawa continues with, “Now about that letter—”

“No.” Suga says, jabbing Oikawa’s sore spot with the side of his hand until he crumples to the floor.

“Alright! Alright! I’ll stop prying!”

 

* * *

 

It’s the break of dawn when Oikawa returns to the ship early one morning. The Aobajohsai is docked at the end of the pier, stationed in town for a fortnight while they gather supplies and intel. Everyone is tucked away in their cots and hammocks, sleeping off last night’s debauchery.

Everyone except for Suga that is. He’s leaning over the edge of the railing, watching the sunrise as Oikawa approaches.

“Someone’s up early,” Oikawa remarks, standing beside him and taking in the colorful display across the horizon.

“And I see someone was out late,” Suga retorts. “What were you up to?”

“What are you, my mother?” Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“You look like a mess,” Suga says, leaning over to wipe off Oikawa’s chin with the pad of his thumb. “Is that blood? Did you get injured again?”

“It’s not mine this time,” Oikawa says with a small hint of a smile.

Suga hums and gives him another one of his signature looks, like he knows exactly what Oikawa’s been up to. “Go change.”

“Yes, _Mom_ ,” Oikawa says with a grimace, sticking out his tongue.

 

* * *

 

“We’ve heard news of another stolen shipment,” Suga informs the crew members gathered within the captain’s quarters as he places a document upon the table. “They ran off with a large supply of steel that was intended for Wakatoshi’s armory.”

“Another pirate raid?” Oikawa questions.

“No,” Iwaizumi says tersely as he reads over the report. “It’s likely it was those rebels we’ve been hearing rumors about. This isn’t the first report of stolen goods after one of the King’s ships has docked at port. We’ll have to sail to Izumitate and take a look for ourselves and see if we can’t catch them red-handed.”

 

* * *

 

“Ahh, nothing quite like the sweet chaos of a crowded tavern after a month out at sea, eh Shitty-kawa?” Iwaizumi grins as he holds open the door to the Horned Owl Inn.

It smells pungent, the enclosed space amplifying the body odor of what must be over two dozen unkempt sailors, the sheer intensity of the stench leading him to believe many of them haven’t bathed in weeks. Layered beneath that is a bitter stench closely resembling stale urine and the musty aroma of cheap ale sloshed across the tabletops and stone flooring. “Yes, there is nothing quite as awful as this.”

He’s about to excuse himself for the evening, perhaps go procure himself a meal and get some fresh air. Instead he’s tasked with fetching a tray of drinks and trying to garner the attention of an overworked barmaid. He’s halfway past the kitchens when Oikawa spots _him_.

Dark hair backlit by the fire pit and milky white skin aglow with the flames. Oikawa thinks for a moment he is an illusion, until the boy's gaze drifts towards him and he’s sure of it—he’d recognize those blazing blue, bastard eyes anywhere.

“It’s you!” He raises his arm to point accusingly, dropping his tray unceremoniously against the stone tiles in the process, wrath of his superiors be damned. His boots splash against the freshly made puddle of liquor as he stomps his way towards him.

“Me?” The boy looks several shades of confused as Oikawa approaches.

“You’ll pay for your actions tonight,” Oikawa snarls, watching the boy’s expression twist into bewilderment as he grabs a fistful of fabric from his blouse and pulls him upright out of the plush bench. “With your life.”

The boy’s face flushes as he grabs onto Oikawa’s wrist, a feeble attempt at escape. “Do I know you?”

Of course he wouldn’t recognize him.

He looks at the patrons sitting amongst the fireplace along the plush chairs and carpets, a few of them watching from the corner of their eyes as they down a round of ale. One of them reaches towards his hip and shouts, “You got a problem?” Oikawa catches the sheen of metal blades twinkling along his belt and pauses.

Killing him outright would be too much of a hassle. He takes a deep breath through his nose, knuckles turning white against the fabric of the boy’s collar as he thinks of an alternative. There was something Iwaizumi mentioned back in one of his tedious lectures on proper fighting etiquette.

“I challenge you,” the word lies on the tip of his tongue, “to a duel!” Oikawa drops the boy and reaches towards the scabbard at his hip. “The winner lays claim to the other’s life.”

The boy ponders a moment, eyes frantically darting around the establishment. “Are you sure you have the right person?”

“Of course, you think I wouldn’t know the captain of the ship that sailed away scot-free from the ruthless attack of sirens.”

“Sirens? How do you know about—Wait C-Captain?” His eyes look ready to pop out of his skull at a moment’s notice. “I’m not—You must be mistaken—”

“Have you no honor as a man?” A wicked smile spreads across Oikawa’s features. “Or perhaps you’re too weak,” he shoves against the other’s chest, “and afraid you’ll lose.”

The boy’s hands curl into fists at his sides, his brows furrowed and his face settling into a determined scowl. The air around them shifts as he mirrors Oikawa’s offensive stance, fingers gripping the hilt of his own sword. “You asked for it.”

_Perfect._

Oikawa draws his sword with a grin. This should be over in a matter of minutes. A pirate is no match for Iwaizumi’s Navy tutelage.

He strikes first.

There is the cling of metal as the boy parries with little hesitation.

Oikawa strikes again.

The boy dodges easily, swiftly stepping backwards and onto the cushions. The other patrons quickly dart out of the way. He retaliates, sword grazing against Oikawa’s shoulder. His form is good, his posture comparable to the blows he’s received from Iwaizumi.

Oikawa parries, pushing his way forward and crowding the boy against the wall; nowhere for him to run.

There’s the tear of fabric, a button clattering to the floor as Oikawa angles his sword against the boy’s sternum. He licks his lips, salivating at the mental imagery of the smooth glide of his sword between the boy’s ribcage and the accompanying wet pop of a punctured lung.

He doesn’t see the kick coming, aimed straight for his groin, and Oikawa stumbles backwards. It provides enough opportunity for the boy to escape and maneuver his way onto the nearby table.

“Hey! What gives!” shouts a rather awkward looking ginger, startled from his hunched position over a platter of meat. “Tobio, you asshole, you almost stepped on my food!”

“Sorry,” The boy—Tobio—grumbles, “I’m a little busy.”

Oikawa takes advantage of the distraction, his sword striking a hole into the wooden table, Tobio dodging at the last moment.

“Who’re you fighting?” The other boy inquires.

“No idea,” Tobio says. “He’s not that shopkeeper you stiffed the other day?”

“Never seen him.”

Tobio steps backwards, knocking over a jug. It puddles against his feet and onto the lap of his companion.

“Damn it! The ginger stands in alarm. “These were my nice pants!”

Tobio merely grunts in reply, running out of table space and hopping back onto the floor.

Oikawa lunges again, his sword striking a few inches from the other’s face.

“He’s pretty good,” the ginger admires from a safe distance, his hands clutching a turkey leg.

The sharp twang of metal echos in Oikawa’s ears. Sweat forms along his brow as the fight continues far longer than expected.

Oikawa takes a step backwards. His foot slips along one of the fur rugs.

Tobio advances with a well aimed strike to Oikawa’s hand. His scabbard clatters to the floor.

Oikawa shuffles, feeling the heat of flames against his skin as the fire rages on in the hearth behind him. He slinks to the floor, reaching out towards his fallen blade. Tobio stomps his boot down upon his hand, his sword pressing firmly to the nape of Oikawa’s neck. A drop of blood drips down, staining the white of his blouse.

“I win,” Tobio’s voice is husky, his breathing labored.

Oikawa stares into the deep expanse of his eyes, dark like a raging storm, waves crashing over him as he waits for the inevitable.

And he waits. And waits. Yet there is no swift punishment, his defeat lingering in the air as the other boy walks away.

“Where are you going?” Oikawa calls after him.

“To bed.” Tobio replies gruffly, not bothering to turn around.

“Finish what you started!” Oikawa snarls.

Tobio looks over his shoulder. “I won, didn’t I?”

“Then why am I still alive!”

“I’m against bloodshed.” Tobio’s face is locked in another grimace.

“Then use me however you see fit. My life is yours for the taking!” Oikawa feels his skin burn with the admission, the taste of failure heavy upon his tongue.

Tobio squints down at him, pausing a moment before saying, “Come with me.”

Oikawa resigns himself to his fate as he follows Tobio up the tavern stairs. His mind runs over the possibilities as they approach one of the bedchambers. Perhaps if Oikawa provides the boy with a few hours of pleasure then he can leave unnoticed in the night, pretend none of this embarrassment ever happened to begin with.

Tobio knocks at one of the doors, the sound of muffled voices followed by the soft patter of feet upon the floorboards. A tall man with dark, disheveled hair opens the door part way. His shirt is torn open and a patch of red marks trails from his neck to his naval. “Kageyama? Why are you—?”

“Captain, I brought someone for you to meet,” Tobio gestures towards Oikawa. Perhaps he is planning to share, Oikawa thinks. Though by the looks of it, having spotted a suspiciously familiar blue jacket crumpled in the far corner, the man in front of him already has his own companion for the evening.

“Who’s this?” The man replies gruffly, giving Oikawa a once over.

“Um,” Tobio flounders for a moment.

“Oikawa, pleasure to meet you,” Oikawa smiles, extending his hand.

“Daichi, Captain of the Karasuno,” the other replies, his grip firm, albeit a little sticky. Oikawa wipes his palms upon his pants when the other isn’t looking.

“He’s going to join our crew,” Tobio says.

“Oh?” Daichi gives him another curious look.

“I-if that’s okay with you?” Tobio fidgets. “He owes me a favor. And with us being short staffed and all…””

Oikawa swivels his head to level him with a bewildered look.

“Very well. Nice to meet you, Oikawa. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Daichi’s voice is strained, his hand gripping at the doorframe, “I have important business to attend to.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tobio replies as the door slams shut.

“What was that?” Oikawa asks as the two of them are left standing awkwardly together in the narrow hallway.

“I introduced you to the Captain?” Tobio’s brows furrow. “The man you mistook me for?”

“I didn’t make a mistake.” It has without a doubt been the memory of Tobio that has been haunting him for the better half of a year.

“Uh,” Tobio’s face scrunches further, “I definitely don’t know you.”

“Yes, well, it’s not my fault you have no recollection of the day you tarnished my reputation.”

“I did?”

“Yes! And you stole my meal, too, you brat.”

“Um…sorry?” Tobio shuffles his feet, a hand nervously rubbing at his chin. “I can buy you dinner?”

There isn’t a hint of spite in his reply and Oikawa hates him for it. He especially hates the way something in his stomach knots as he stares at the poor fool and his pitiful half-smile.

“I already ate,” Oikawa crosses his arms.

“Oh,” Tobio says, running a hand through his hair. “Next time then?”

“I expect a feast.” Oikawa can’t believe he’s agreeing to the feeble notion.

They make plans to meet in the morning out by the docks and Oikawa sets off to find Iwaizumi and inform him of his departure.

“I found him,” Oikawa says, his voice void of emotion as he steps into Iwaizumi’s quarters back on the Aobajohsai.

“That guy you were looking for?” Iwaizumi replies. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”

“Don’t be daft,” Oikawa shudders. “He’s nothing of the sort.”

“Well, did you confront him? I certainly hope you killed him inconspicuously. I’d rather not start a fight with the locals.”

“Not exactly,” Oikawa fidgets with one of the many trinkets laid out on Iwaizumi’s dresser. “He’s unfortunately still alive.”

“Oh ho! Decided to spare him, did you?” Iwaizumi ruffles his hair. “Are you giving up the chase?”

“Never,” Oikawa replies, shoving his arm aside. “I’m setting sail with him in the morning. I’ll be sure to kill him later, when he least expects it.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and gives a fond smile, “I’m sure you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! Hopefully this chapter answered some of your questions as to where the missing members of our dear Karasuno winded up in this alternate universe. 
> 
> Next update won't be for another two weeks or so as I have to rewrite some of my drafts. 
> 
> Also! [Rokutagrl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rokutagrl/pseuds/Rokutagrl) and I are hosting a challenge event where we're trying to update a chapter/post a new fic for every month of the year to celebrate 2019 being the year of Oikage! If you're interested in joining us head on over to [Year-Of-Oikage](https://year-of-oikage.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for more information!


	4. Cake by the Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa makes good of his promise and starts a new beginning aboard the Karasuno, where things are both much worse and far better than he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh!!! I'm so sorry this is so late! February was an absolute mess of a month (my dog needed emergency surgery and weeks of supervision afterwards) and then this chapter gave me such a headache I had to re-write it at least three times until I was happy with it. But it's ready at last, all 5,600 words of it! 
> 
> Big shout out as per usual to [ Rokutagrl ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rokutagrl/pseuds/Rokutagrl) for being a lovely beta and re-reading this as many times as she did!! Also thank you all so much for the lovely comments on chapter 3!! They mean the world to me ❤ ❤ ❤
> 
> One last note, this chapter features switching POV between Oikawa and Tobio (since they're together at last!!) Hopefully it's not too confusing to follow~

Oikawa’s sleep is fitful on the night before his departure, his nerves stretched taut in a mix of dread and anticipation. When at last it seems he’s calmed, he finds himself awoken, drenched in a cold sweat. He feels the memory of steel pressed to the hollow of his throat and traces his fingertips across his neck to ensure it’s simply an illusion.

The lingering image of the boy’s twisted smile taunts him, rousing him to alertness as the sun begins to rise through the port windows. _Tobio_ echoes throughout his mind, at last having a name to put to the face. He whispers it to himself, the taste of it sour upon his tongue, and it fuels a fire within him.

Oikawa quickly gathers what little he has of his belongings; a change of clothes and a small coin purse. He casually bids farewell to those he encounters, though most blink listlessly back at him, groggy and inebriated from the night prior.

“Take this,” Mattsun says somberly, delicately placing a leather flask into Oikawa’s open palm. “Only the best rum a man can buy, for my dear friend.” Oikawa shakes the meager contents and raises a brow. “I tested it out myself, to ensure the quality.”

“Thanks. How...thoughtful.”

“Oh and take this...” Makki says, rummaging in his breast pocket and withdrawing a stained handkerchief with the initials T.H. embroidered in the corner. “To remember me by.”

“Sometimes I think I’d rather forget,” Oikawa grimaces at the dirtied cloth and begrudgingly puts it in his pocket.

“How cruel.” Makki feigns injury, dramatically falling into Mattsun’s open arms. “You wound me!”

Oikawa leaves the theatrical duo, running his hands along the wooden beams as he makes his way across the ship. He feels almost wistful to part ways. It was fun, playing the role of a Navy sailor these last few months, but it’s time to take on a new act.

“Well,” Oikawa says, before he disembarks the Aobajohsai, “this is it. Time for me to take my leave. It was nice knowing you all.”

“Can’t say the same,” Tsukishima says with a smirk from where he stands at the sails. “Good riddance.”

Oikawa makes a face, sticking out his tongue at the four-eyes as he walks down the gangplank. Mattsun and Makki wave at him from the railing, crocodile tears in the corner of their eyes as they shout after him.

“You were the best bunkmate!” Makki cries. “I’ll never forget you!”

“We’ll have a drink in your honor!” Mattsun shouts, another flask of rum already in hand.

“You’d be doing that anyways!” Oikawa says with a laugh as he waves back.

He spots Suga skulking along the pier up ahead, the first appearance of the silver haired man since his vanishing act the other night. Suga’s hands fiddle with the top button of his jacket, a purple cluster of bruises only partially hidden behind his stiff collar. His face flushes when their eyes meet, his gaze quickly darting to the ground.

“Rough night?” Oikawa jeers.

Suga gives a noncommittal grunt, still refusing to maintain eye contact.

“So that was him?” Oikawa asks with a grin as he leans in to whisper, “Your little _pen-pal_ .”

Suga’s nostrils flare and he pushes Oikawa away with a firm smack to the shoulder. “ _Stop that!_ ”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” Oikawa’s smile is absolutely devious, “To think! The esteemed first mate of the Navy is sleeping with the enemy.”

Suga’s blush deepens, the tips of his ears glowing as he smacks a hand over Oikawa’s mouth. “ _Not so loud!_ ”

Oikawa bites down and Suga retracts his hand, shaking it in front of himself before glaring up at Oikawa. “You’re one to talk. I heard you’re about to join them yourself.”

“ _Temporarily_ ,” Oikawa says. “As soon as I smite that brat I’ll be on my way.”

“Best of luck with that,” Suga says. “From what I hear that crew can be quite a handful.”

“I doubt they can be any worse than the sorry lot back there,” Oikawa says, gesturing to the Aobajohsai.

Suga merely hums. “It won’t be the same without you, you were a fine navigator. _Almost_ as good as myself _._ ” He playfully elbows Oikawa in the ribs.

“I’ll try to keep in touch—Though don’t expect any love letters,” Oikawa says with a wink as he bids farewell.

“Safe travels!” Suga shouts after him.

Oikawa makes his way to the far end of the pier, where he is to wait for Tobio to come and fetch him. He spots Iwaizumi standing a few meters away, feeding a cluster of seagulls the remains of his breakfast.

“So this is goodbye,” Iwaizumi says, his gruff features framed with a frown. “I’m almost sad to see you go.”

“I’m sure you’ll miss me dearly,” Oikawa says, batting his eyelashes.

“Yes, who else will keep me awake in the middle of the night with their damn swordplay,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, tossing the last of his breadcrumbs to the birds.

Oikawa looks out at the line of ships docked along the pier and spies a familiar head of black hair exiting one of the wooden vessels. He stands on his toes, a hand curved to his forehead as he gets a better look.

“Find your guy?” Iwaizumi asks, turning to look in Oikawa’s direction.

“Yep,” Oikawa says with a pop of his lips when he recognizes the same shabby clothes from last night. “That’s the one, unfortunately.”

“Never would have figured you were after the Trash Pirates,” Iwaizumi remarks as they watch a raven flag ascend above the unfurling sails.

“The what now?” Oikawa asks, unsure if he wants to hear the answer.

“They waste more time getting lost and collecting garbage than doing any real harm, so we’ve spared them for the time being.”

 _Wonderful_ , Oikawa thinks bitterly. He’s got so much to look forward to.

“Don’t cause too much havoc though,” Iwaizumi says with a grin, “or else we’ll have to hunt you down.”

“I make no promises.”

Tobio begins to make his way towards them and Oikawa flags him down with a wave of his hand. “Looks like it’s time to go.”

“He looks awfully familiar.” Iwaizumi squints at the boy’s approaching figure before a large man blocks his view to deposit a pile of crates into Tobio’s arms.

Oikawa hums, turning towards him. “So you know him after all, you liar!”

“No, he couldn’t be—” Iwaizumi shakes his head. “You better get going, don’t want to keep lover boy waiting.” He slaps Oikawa along the back.

“How dare you—” Oikawa gasps. “He’s my sworn enemy! There is nothing but loathing between us!”

Iwaizumi snorts, “Yeah, yeah. Get going!”

“Farewell, Iwa-dearest!” Oikawa shouts with his hands cupped along his mouth as he departs. He can make out Iwaizumi placing a palm to his forehead, shaking his head in exasperation at the dreaded nickname before giving a brief wave in return.

“Tobio-dearie!” Oikawa shouts, his voice an irritating falsetto as he greets the bastard child up ahead.

“…Um…It’s Oikawa, right?” Tobio’s voice is gruff, his brows pinched.

“You remembered! How sweet!” Oikawa says, placing an arm around Tobio’s shoulders. He takes joy in watching Tobio’s eyes go wide, his shoulders bristling at the touch. “Well, are you going to show me to my new home or not?”

Stepping aboard the Karasuno, Oikawa eyes the motley crew strewing about, their shady eyes now glued upon him. He grimaces.

“This the fresh meat?” A man in a bandana juts his chin in Oikawa’s direction.

“Can’t believe Captain Daichi let another Navy brat onboard.” A man with sloppy black bangs approaches him, tugging at the collar of Oikawa’s blue coat. “You’ll have to get a new jacket. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that hideous thing.”

Oikawa shoves off the offending hands. “Because your attire is so alluring?” He raises a brow as he takes in the clashing stripes and patched up clothing of the crew. The only ‘uniform’ look about them being that of one who’s plundered an almshouse.

“Oh—he’s feisty!” A ridiculously short man shouts from above, his small body dangling upside-down from the netting like a spider. “I like him!”

“Not so fast.” The man in the bandana glares as he stomps his way over to Oikawa. “I don’t like the look of him one bit. Them pretty boys aren’t to be trusted.”

“Yeah!” shouts a voice from behind him, the ginger from last night peeking around the tall man’s shoulder. “He looks like an asshole to me!”

Oikawa takes a proper look at the brat, his rounded cheeks and pathetic stature indicative of someone only just approaching adolescence. “Why is a child insulting me? Are you even old enough to leave home without your mother?” he sneers. “Don’t tell me these heathens kidnapped a baby!”

“Hey!” The ginger steps out from behind his human shield and stomps his way towards Oikawa. “I’ll be twenty this summer, I’ll have you know!” He prods Oikawa in the chest with one of his small, stubby fingers. “What are you doing here anyways? Didn’t you try to start shit with Kageyama last night? What’s your deal?!”

“Get your filthy hands off me,” Oikawa snarls.

“Oh yeah?” The ginger tugs at Oikawa’s collar, pulling him down to eye level. “What you gonna do about it, huh?”

Oikawa chuckles. “Am I supposed to be scared?”

“I watched Kageyama wipe the floor with you last night. I can take you!”

Oikawa’s eyes flash, his upper lip twitching as he watches the damn fool pull back his fist. Before he can counter, Tobio steps forward and catches the boy’s hand. “Stop it, dumbass!”

“My savior,” Oikawa mockingly places a hand above his heart.

“You too!” Tobio glares at him.

“Calm down lads, we haven’t even left port yet. There’ll be plenty of time for fighting later,” the debauched man from last night, Captain Daichi, says as he approaches. “Did you finish loading the supplies?” he asks, directing his gaze to Tobio.

“There’s one batch left, Sir,” Tobio replies.

“Good. Get your new companion to help and then we’re sailing out,” Daichi orders.

Oikawa weaves his way back towards the dock, the hairs at the nape of his neck prickling with the weight of the crew’s stare. One of the men ‘accidentally’ bumps into him and Oikawa stumbles, tripping into Tobio. He turns back around to glare at the offender but the man in the bandana retreats, his hands held in surrender as he offers a toothy grin, all black and gold, in place of an apology.

Tobio directs him to the pile of goods left out on the dock and Oikawa exhales, his breath blowing his bangs upward. He hunches over, his limbs protesting as he carries one of the crates up the gangplank.

“What’s even in these things? A pile of rocks?” Oikawa whines, the confines rattling as he shakes it.

“No idea," Tobio says with a shrug as he lifts up another one.

Oikawa squints at one of the cracks in the crate’s wooden panels and spies the shine of metal. They maneuver their way down the narrow staircase and into the cramped and overfilled cargo hull.

“Isn’t this a little…excessive?” Oikawa says with a whistle.

“Huh?” Tobio cocks his head to the side.

“What’s a small crew like yours need with all this.” Oikawa gestures to the precariously stacked piles of boxes.

“It’s not for us.”

“Oh? Stolen goods up for sale?”

Tobio shakes his head. “We’re doing shipment runs. The Captain’s paying back a debt.”

Oikawa makes a puzzled expression as he imagines the motley crew above doing any form of honest labor. Iwaizumi was right—they’re an oddball crew after all.

 

* * *

 

The next morning finds Oikawa cooped up in the little nook of a kitchen, a sack of potatoes at his feet and an empty pot sitting along the counter. An overly eager Tobio stands beside him, giving in-depth lessons on the art of peeling vegetables. Tobio holds out his hand, showcasing a scar along his knuckle as a supposed warning for Oikawa’s fate if he fucks up the simple task.

“I know how to use a blade,” Oikawa snaps. Tobio’s puppy dog eyes droop and a part of Oikawa almost feels bad.

 _Almost_ .

As Tobio drags him around the ship’s facilities throughout the morning and explains his new daily duties, Oikawa realizes he has been demoted to a cabin boy. To further infuriate him, Tobio lingers behind him at all times, giving a poor attempt at instruction regardless of Oikawa’s insistence otherwise.

“You can skip the lecture,” he sighs. “It’s not my first time aboard a ship.”

Tobio continues on, “So this is a clove hitch and if you, um, pull it like this, it can be adjusted.”

Oikawa’s eyes droop as he watches Tobio go through a series of knots before handing him his own rope. He considers using it to tie the boy up but he can hear the laughter of a nearby crew member and thinks better of it.

“I know how to scrub the floor,” Oikawa grunts as Tobio takes out a mop and bucket. “Unlike you filthy mongrels, I understand the importance of cleanliness.”

Tobio opens his mouth only to quickly close it, instead opting for a harsh frown.

There’s no hiding the poor hygiene of the crew. Oikawa experienced the horrors first hand last night. He shudders, already dreading spending another stifling night in the tightly packed sleeping quarters.

Tobio hands off the mop to Oikawa, the tips of his fingers brushing along his knuckles. Oikawa leans down to quickly wash his hands in the soapy water. “Why am I being saddled with the grunt work anyways?”

“You’re my replacement.” Tobio says and leaves it at that.

The sun beams down on them as Tobio takes him above deck, showing him how to adjust the sails and scale the rigging. Oikawa contemplates taking out his dagger and cutting the rope, watching the boy fall forty feet through the air. He glares up at him instead, the sun illuminating Tobio’s silhouette, framing him in gold.

When evening settles, a pockmarked crew member with messy brown hair comes to escort Tobio away. He considers shaking the other man’s hand in gratitude for offering Oikawa his first respite of solitude aboard this accursed ship.

He uses his newfound freedom to watch the sunset across the horizon. As he leans against the rails he debates if he should perhaps kill Tobio inconspicuously, laying out the framework for an unfortunate ‘accident.’ He looks out at the weeds bobbing along the surface of the water and briefly considers food poisoning. He could throw them in Tobio’s stew, lay the blame on any number of seaborne illnesses.

Oikawa shakes his head, the punishment not nearly fitting enough. He needs to provide Tobio a taste of the humiliation he’s been forced upon _twice now_ by his hand.

 

* * *

 

“How’s the new guy holding up?” Yamaguchi inquires over their nightly lessons.

“He’s okay,” Tobio replies. More than okay, in fact. His sailing skills are practically on par with his own. “He probably doesn’t need my help…” But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to give it. He takes a sense of pride in being a mentor and not the mentee after all.

“That’s good. Glad he’s not causing you too much trouble after that entrance he made.”

His first encounter with Oikawa had felt like an odd dream. Tobio was certain he had made it all up upon waking, if not for Shōyō’s shared recollection of events. The ginger had performed a rather impressive one-man reenactment of the duel for the crew—sound effects included.

Yet Tobio was still surprised when Oikawa actually showed up at the docks that morning, making good of his promise despite his apparent hatred of him. Though he insisted Tobio had wronged him in the past, his recollection of any previous encounters with the strange man was coming up blank. Tobio would remember someone as vibrant as Oikawa—his flamboyant personality and delicate features standing out in harsh contrast to the simple townsfolk they’ve met in recent months.

“And it never hurts to have another set of hands around,” Yamaguchi states.

Tobio finds himself agreeing with the sentiment, even though he can sense there is something dangerous about Oikawa—which is to be expected from a man who introduced himself at sword point—be it the wild look in his eyes, a grin that is a little too sharp, or his disarmingly saccharine voice. But despite all that, Tobio feels a sense of ease around him, his presence familiar almost.

Tobio can’t quite place why, until he catches a whiff of a sea breeze as he reaches past Oikawa in the cramped kitchen quarters the next day. The essence of the ocean clings to Oikawa’s skin much like a cologne. As Tobio leans in and takes a deep breath, he notices another layer beyond that. The scent of it brings back the memory of walking along the shore with his mother’s hand clasped atop his own. He closes his eyes and can almost feel the grains of sand beneath his toes, a wave curling around his legs and tickling his ankles as it retreats with the tide.

Tobio’s cheeks flare when his eyes open to find Oikawa has taken notice.

“Do I smell?” He asks, raising his arm and scrunching his nose.

“Yes,” Tobio says instinctively, “I mean no—”

Oikawa gives him a look as if he’s lost his mind and Tobio almost wonders if he has.

“Not bad, I mean! You smell…good.”

“Thanks…” Oikawa says hesitantly. “ _I think._ ”

Throughout the following days Tobio repeatedly finds himself standing perhaps a little too close, as he goes through the motions of instructing Oikawa.

That afternoon, Tobio offers him a hand as Oikawa steps into the crow’s nest. A moment passes that feels like a lifetime with Tobio crouching down, hand outstretched. He’s beginning to feel like an absolute fool, until Oikawa finally takes hold. The first thing Tobio notices is the smooth feeling of Oikawa’s fingertips and the clean cut of his nails. He finds himself remarking, “You have girly hands,” before he can think better of it.

“Excuse me?” Oikawa says, a tilt to his head and his teeth clenched in a fierce smile.

Oikawa’s grip tightens and he notices next the difference in size, the curl of Oikawa’s long and tapered fingers, the way the palm of his hand is large enough to almost envelop Tobio’s own. The observation sends a wave of heat throughout him and his palms begin to sweat as he pulls Oikawa upwards.

“Your hands are soft—” Tobio says in a rush “—like a girl’s.”

He purses his lips, willing the flush of his cheeks to die down as Oikawa rights himself within the small basket. Tobio belatedly drops his hand and takes a quick step backwards, wiping his palms dry across the length of his pants until they burn with friction.

He notices then, the subtle twitch of Oikawa’s eyebrow, and feels a hard lump of regret in the pit of his stomach.

“Sorry—I—I um...” Tobio’s voice softens until it is hardly a whisper.

“You’re going to feel the wrath of these girly hands if you don’t shut your mouth.”

He does keep his mouth shut after that, wordlessly handing Oikawa the spyglass and slumping against the side of the basket.

 

* * *

 

It’s raining, the wheels slipping along the muddy cracks in the cobblestone paths of the marketplace as Tobio drags along the newly filled barrow. He glares at his companions, caught up yet again in another of their arguments instead of helping him push the heavy weight of the cart.

“How’d you do it?” Shōyō asks, equal parts starry eyed and furious as he tags behind Oikawa. “Ms. Suzumeda never gives _me_ a discount!”

“ _It’s a secret!_ ” Oikawa winks, the tip of his tongue peeking from the corner of his smile.

“It’s witchcraft, isn’t it!” Shōyō shouts, “Tobio! You summoned a demon!”

“Let’s go,” Tobio says, hardly batting an eye.

“No, I’m serious!” Shōyō has made no effort to hide his distaste of their newest crew member. “Remember what I told you the other night? About catching him covered in blood?”

“You mean your nightmare?” Tobio sighs. It wasn’t the first time and probably won’t be the last that Tobio’s been shaken awake by a frantic Shōyō in the dead of night. Only instead of ranting on about childhood dreams of monsters hiding under beds, this time his clammy hands were pointed frantically at a peacefully sleeping Oikawa. The next morning Tobio had to forcefully restrain him from going through the man’s belongings. He had found Shōyō elbow deep in a pile of dirty laundry, in a state of dismay upon finding no evidence of the prior night’s supposed horror.

“I wasn’t dreaming!” Shōyō shouts. “And even if I was—who’s to say it’s not a premonition!”

Oikawa turns sharply, dragging down his lower eyelid and sticking out his tongue.

Shōyō glares, his tiny fists clenched at his side. “Look! There’s a church. Let’s pull him in—maybe a priest can exorcise him,” he says as they walk past a little brick building.

“Why you little—” Oikawa bats away the intruding hands clinging to him, forcefully dragging him towards holy land.

Tobio rolls his eyes, grabbing onto the wobbly cart and continuing down the lane.

 

* * *

 

“He thinks he’s _so cool_ ,” Shōyō shouts from his bunk one evening when Oikawa isn’t present. “Just because he’s hot, he thinks he can get away with anything.”

Tobio considers Oikawa’s looks for a moment. To call him unattractive would most certainly be a lie. If he’s entirely honest with himself, Oikawa may, _quite possibly,_ be the most attractive person Tobio has ever encountered. There’s an almost ethereal glow about him from his pristine complexion to his purposely tousled hair—an astonishing feat in comparison to Kuroo’s unmanageable bedhead or Shōyō’s untamable curls and ruddy skin. Even the way he carries himself is impressive, his posture practically exuding confidence and charisma.

“There’ll be no one left to woo in town if he keeps stealing hearts left, right, and center,” Tanaka groans from his hammock.

“As if you were getting any before,” Kuroo snorts from across the way.

“Shut up!” Tanaka shouts back, “I don’t want to hear anything from you, Mr. Matelotage.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the golden ring upon his finger shining in the limited light. “Now shut up and sleep.”

 

* * *

 

It is mid-afternoon when the crew takes a break from deliveries, the sun high above and a gentle breeze blowing off the ocean. Oikawa is about to head to lunch when Tobio confronts him.

“Come with me,” the bastard demands, grabbing onto Oikawa’s sleeve and yanking him towards shore.

“You aren’t taking me to that blasted church, are you?”

A voice from above shouts down, “Why? _Are you scared?_ Know you’ll burn right on the spot? Good riddance!”

“We’re not going to church.”

He can hear the disappointed whine from Shōyō above.

“Good,” Oikawa huffs, crossing his arms. “Not that I’d be frightened,” he adds on, glaring up at the sky. “I just find them extraordinarily boring.” He remembers the stuffy atmosphere, sitting along the cramped pews beside Iwaizumi during one of their mandatory drop-ins. The kaleidoscope of colors from the stained glass had provided little life to the priest’s monotonous droning.

Tobio rolls his eyes before continuing forward. He leads them along the beachfront to where a ratty blanket has been placed upon the sand, a wicker basket holding down the center.

“What’s this?” Oikawa asks with a raised brow at the display.

“Your repayment,” Tobio says, sitting down.

Oikawa blinks rapidly, watching as Tobio rummages inside the basket.

“Sit down already!” he demands. There’s a hint of a blush along his cheekbones as Tobio pats the spot beside him.

Oikawa complies, sitting cross-legged on the blanket, the edges of his knees bumping into Tobio’s in the small seating area.

“Here,” Tobio says as he hands Oikawa a large hunk of meat atop a thick slice of bread and cheese. He also sets out a bowl of fruit and a canister of some sort of white liquid.

Tobio lifts the jar to his lips, taking a large gulp before offering it to Oikawa, who eyes it wearily. “Milk,” he grunts. “Want some?”

Oikawa grimaces, “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Tobio shrugs, “Your loss.”

Oikawa chews his food in silence. The bread is soft and freshly baked, the meat tender and juicy, the cheese both creamy and fragrant. Tobio watches him out of the corner of his eye, his hand tapping against the fabric of the blanket.

“Good?” he asks.

“Edible,” Oikawa mutters as he finishes the last of it, licking the crumbs from his fingers. “Is that all?” he says, his hand waving across the remaining scraps of food set along the blanket. “I’d hardly call that a feast.”

Tobio rummages in the basket once more, this time retrieving an item wrapped in parchment paper. He unfurls the material, revealing some sort of square shaped oddity covered in an unfamiliar layer of white goo. Tobio cuts into it with a knife, exposing the yellow and spongy interior. It almost resembles bread, but as Oikawa holds a slice in his palm he realizes it is far too delicate and the smell is almost fruity.

“What is this? Are you trying to poison me,” Oikawa nearly tosses the monstrosity, his palm sticky with the goop spreading across his fingers.

“It’s… _cake_ ,” Tobio looks at him as if he’s a child having never encountered a school of fish. “Try it.”

Oikawa turns his head to scoff. “I’ll do no such thing.”

“Alright.” Tobio wraps it up and goes to place the cake back in the basket. “I’ll give it to Shōyō later then.”

Oikawa gasps, “You can’t give my food away to that brat!”

“I’m not letting it go to waste,” Tobio says with a frown. “It’s not exactly cheap.”

“Fine!” Oikawa shouts, bringing the dreaded _cake_ to his lips and taking a meager bite. It tastes sweet, the sugar almost overwhelming his taste buds. He takes another bite and notices the delightful hint of citrus.

Tobio has his head cocked to the side, observing him eagerly. “You like it?” he asks with a small smile.

“It’s dreadful,” Oikawa says as he shoves the rest of the piece into his mouth, chewing loudly. He extends his hand towards Tobio. “I’ll have another.”

Tobio laughs softly as he fetches the rest, Oikawa devouring it in mere moments.

 

* * *

 

As the weeks go on, Oikawa begrudgingly realizes that Tobio is _perhaps_ not the _worst_ company to have around. The boy’s bouts of silence, albeit awkward, are far superior to the loud and abrasive behavior of the other crew members.

Oikawa soon learns that a watch duty with Tanaka and Nishinoya is filled with cringeworthy retellings of their pitiful romantic exploits back on land, topped off with an impressive display of their alcohol tolerance that would put Mattsun and Makki to shame.

“ _You’re the worst!_ ” Tanaka shouts, sloshing rum against his clothes as he flails a limb in Oikawa’s direction. “You pretty boys are all the same!”

“You can’t just play with a lady’s heart like that!” Nishinoya whines. “You gotta _cherish_ her!”

“ _Who?_ ” Oikawa questions.

“We saw what you did to Ms. Yukie!” Nishinoya glares.

“She was practically a puddle after you finished sweet talking her!” Tanaka continues. “She was downright moonstruck. Wouldn’t even give us the time of day after you left!”

Oikawa sighs, tipping his head back as he takes a drink himself. The name isn’t familiar in the slightest, but he figures they must be referring to the shopkeeper Oikawa encountered that morning. His flirtations were merely another opportunity to rile up the shrimpy brat, his fiery reactions serving as an entertaining distraction as he bides his time planning Tobio’s downfall.

Shōyō barrels into him on their next shift together as the overbearing sun makes its way overhead.

“Listen here, you demon!” Shōyō shouts. “Let’s see how good you really are.” It seems today Shōyō has challenged him to a race across the deck to see who can clean the quickest, a challenge far superior to last week’s competitive barnacle scraping.

“Like I need to prove myself to a weakling like you,” Oikawa snipes. He finishes the task in record time, the heat of the sun above causing his clothes to stick to his back by the time he reaches the far end of the prow. “I win!” he cheers as he drops his mop to the floor in victory. That makes it five to two this week—not that he’s counting.

“No way!” Shōyō groans, only a few paces behind him.

A benefit of their little competitions speeding up their daily chores means they have extra time for more _entertaining_ pursuits.

“What’s today’s wager?” Oikawa asks as he draws his sword from its sheath.

“Loser has to clean the soup pots,” Shōyō decides as he takes his own offensive stance. Oikawa has quickly learned that Shōyō’s short stature betrays his skill with a blade, having lost last week’s battle and spending the evening hunting down the rats in the cargo hull like some sort of house pet.

Today Oikawa has the upper hand, the ginger fatigued from the overbearing sun. A few strikes later and the boy’s sword has slipped from his hand as he falls to the floor.

“I won’t let you win that easily,” Shōyō groans from where he lies in a pool of his own sweat, his hands feebly clawing at Oikawa’s ankles. He wonders briefly is this was how Iwaizumi felt.

“Have fun in the kitchen,” Oikawa jeers, nudging at his ribcage with the toe of his boot.

“Good fight!” shouts Lev as Oikawa walks towards the shade of the sails and sits down for a rest. The inconceivably tall child is a mystery Oikawa has not yet solved, although he seems harmless enough.

Oikawa tips his head back in acknowledgement before resting it against the cool side of the wooden beam.

“Me too?” Lev asks, eagerly tugging at the hilt of his sword.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. He takes it back. Lev’s worse than the brat.

“Not today,” Oikawa says, wiping sweat from his forehead. He wishes he could go for a swim right about now.

 

* * *

 

“You’re surprisingly strong,” Kuroo remarks one evening as he orders Oikawa to lift a pile of crates onto the upper deck.

“He certainly doesn’t look it. Where do you hide all that muscle?” Bokuto remarks, pinching at Oikawa’s bicep. “Still, you’re not as tough as me,” he grins, grabbing a double load and lifting it with ease.

In his peripherals Oikawa can see Kuroo looking absolutely lecherous, biting at his lip as his eyes linger on Bokuto’s taut forearms. _Disgusting_ .

Although Oikawa doesn’t mind conversing with Kuroo or Bokuto individually, as soon as the two are paired together he’d rather be anywhere else onboard. Their conversations tend to become almost incomprehensible as they delve into a series of increasingly obscure jokes—not to mention their rather sickeningly handsy behavior with one another when they think he’s not looking.

As if proving his point, Oikawa hears Kuroo snickering behind him. Against his better judgement, he turns around to spy Bokuto dropping the pile of crates and setting Kuroo on top of them, his hands crawling up Kuroo’s sides.

“Bo’ stop!” Kuroo giggles, his hands batting at Bokuto’s chest. “Get back to work.”

“Make me,” Bokuto growls, pinning Kuroo down. Oikawa turns away before his eyes are defiled any further.

“ _Ahem_ ,” Daichi coughs as he walks past. “Take that behavior elsewhere, would you?”

“Yes, Sir!” they singsong in unison as the two untangle.

“I hope they’re not causing you too much strife,” Daichi says, placing his hand on Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Not at all, Sir,” Oikawa says through clenched teeth, his hand raised in a casual salute.

The Captain is a hard one to pin down, his attitude seemingly friendly and composed but something lingers behind that closed mouth smile that sets Oikawa on edge. There’s no telling how much he’s caught on of his true intentions and he decides it’s best to keep his distance for the time being.

Oikawa’s almost thankful when their shifts rotate yet again and he finds himself stationed beside Tobio late that night. There’s little to do other than watch the waves crash against the prow, gauging if the anchor has grabbed hold below, confirming they’re not drifting aimlessly off course.

Tobio is quiet as usual, his head tucked into a notebook, periodically looking skyward before scribbling something down.

“Taking notes?” Oikawa questions, breaking the silence for fear he’ll fall asleep otherwise.

“Studying,” is the gruff reply.

Oikawa leans over him, placing his hands on Tobio’s shoulders and feeling the other stiffen beneath his touch. He sees a sloppily rendered chart of stars spread across the parchment. He taps his index finger along the page, indicating one of the specks of ink. “You missed a spot,” he whispers.

Tobio grunts, quickly stepping forward and out of Oikawa’s reach. He fumbles with his pencil, quickly jotting down a new addition of constellations.

“I can help,” Oikawa croons, “if you want?”

He watches Tobio shift from foot to foot before relenting, handing over his journal.

 _This is good_ , Oikawa thinks. _Earning the boy’s trust will make it far easier to plan his demise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My shipping preferences are not subtle by any means. I hope you all enjoy the little sprinklings of my other OTPs I've been putting throughout this. (And happy BoKuroo week!!) 
> 
> Thanks again for being so patient and sticking around! I don't have a set posting date for the next chapter but hopefully it'll be much less of a wait! ❤
> 
> Edit: I went and fixed that weird series of typos around the hand-holding scene! Sorry about that!!! My google doc glitched out on me! Also when will Ao3 properly format my italics >:(


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